


take my love, take my land

by dailandin



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefly Setting, Companion!Graves, IN SPACE!, M/M, Mechanic!Credence, Pining, Small non-con moment, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-11-28 06:22:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11412087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dailandin/pseuds/dailandin
Summary: Credence arrived to theSerenityin a box.The one where Credence is the mechanic of theSerenitycrew, and Graves is the high-class Companion travelling with them. Far off planets, daring sword fights, lots of pining, and a villain in disguise.Note: no previous knowledge ofFireflyrequired





	1. Shinding

**Author's Note:**

> Firefly!AU because I'm a sucker for sci-fic classics (I'm still trying to work out how to make a Battlestar Galactica AU happen). No previous knowledge of the series is required, the only thing to know is that Companion = High-Class Escort (more or less, they are like super trained and cultured)
> 
> I've been working on this one, on and off, for a few months in between my Politics!AU WIP. The whole fic is planned out, although the next chapter will take a while to be finished. I had originally planned to post everything at once, as a one-shot, but I've been working so long on this and I wanted to get it out. I expect the second and final chapter to be posted once I finish "The road to power..."

“You’ll get burned, staying out in the sun like this, honey”

Credence lazily opens one eye to find Queenie staring down at him. She is holding a pink battered umbrella to shade herself from the unforgiving midday sun of Bellerophone.

“I like the sun” declares Credence, closing his eye and reclining back on his deckchair “anyways, it’s not like we’ll be staying long enough for me to get burnt, is it?” he adds bitterly.

The Captain had made it abundantly clear, the moment they landed on Bellerophone’s public landing pad, that theirs was to be a short stay. Just as long as it took them to stock on provisions, buy some spare parts for the ship, and pick up a new job from Gnarlack. Queenie and Jacob are now apparently back with the provisions, and Credence himself already got all the parts he needs to keep _Serenity_ up and running earlier on the day. The Captain and Newt are still missing, presumably still trying to haggle the reward prices with Gnarlack, an exercise in futility if Credence ever saw one. That man loves his credits more than Newt loves his pets. Apart from them, the only missing crewmember would be…

“Oh, there’s Teenie! She does not look happy” observes Queenie. Credence forces himself to open his eyes. The bright, white glare of the sun blinds him for a moment, but after a few quick blinks, he is able to focus on Queenie’s sister.

She does not, indeed, look happy. She crosses the landing pad in quick, angry strides, hands stuffed in the pockets of her signature brown coat, and shoulders hunched up to her ears. Behind her, Newt hurries to catch up, clutching an old looking, hole riddled, case to his chest, and sending her worried glances.

“Everything OK, Teenie?” questions Queenie once her sister arrives.

“No, nothing is OK, Queenie” she snaps back “Gnarlack is a nasty, evil, _cheap_ piece of shit”

“You mean we don’t have a job?” asks Jacob, coming out of _Serenity_ ’s cargo bay, where he has been storing their newly acquired provisions.

“Oh, no, we do have a job” replies Newt “Tina just doesn’t like it much, that’s all”

“It’s a joke! And not even a well paid one, at that”

“Animal lives are not a joke” calmly states Newt, clutching the case tightly to his chest. The case mewls in response. “They are as deserving of a new home as you or me, and the price was more than adequate” he sniffs, earning himself a boiling glare from his partner.

“You mean you have animals in the case?” asks Credence, eagerly standing up and approaching Newt “Can I see?”

Newt beams at him and begins to fiddle with the case’s locks “Sure! Here, let me-” but he is interrupted before he can open the case.

“None of that now! There will be plenty of time to look at the blasted furballs once we’re back up. Now, Credence where is Graves?”

“I don’t know, Captain” responds Credence, eyeing Newt’s case with longing “He was with a client, he did say he would be back on time”

“We leave in an hour” declares the Captain, striding into _Serenity_ “If Graves doesn’t return by then, he is more than welcome to hitch a ride with a space liner. Newt, go store the furballs somewhere I don’t have to deal with them, Queenie, with me. We need to talk”

Credence watches as Queenie and the Captain disappear into the ship, Newt following soon after, throwing an apologetic glance back at Credence.

Credence and Jacob are left standing by themselves in the landing pad. Credence sinks back into his deckchair.

“Don’t worry, lad” says Jacob patting him comfortingly on the shoulder “I imagine there will be plenty of time for you to see those beasts Newt has brought on board”

Credence smiles thankfully up at Jacob. The pilot, along with his wife, basically adopted Credence as their own child the moment he joined the crew.

“Do you think the Captain was serious about leaving Percival behind?” he asks, averting his eyes and feeling a blush stain his cheeks, voice barely more than a whisper.

“Ha! She wouldn’t dare” reassures him Jacob “Good ol’ Percy is the only thing keeping this ship respectable. With him gone the Alliance would not hesitate to round all of us up like petty criminals. And, hey! There he is!” he exclaims.

Credence eyes snap up to follow Jacob’s gaze, and immediately land on their missing crewmember. Percival is just getting off a shiny hoverpad, a richly dressed beautiful woman hanging off his arm. From the distance Credence cannot quite make out what she is saying, only the flirty pout on her lips and the flutter of her long eyelashes. Whatever it is she says, though, seems to be the right thing, because Percival swoops her up in a long, lewd looking kiss.

“Oh, boy” Jacob mutters, and Credence can hear him beating a hasty retreat back to the ship.

Credence stays, slumped over in his tattered deckchair, his blush adding a darker shade of red to his sunburnt cheeks. He stays and stares. He follows Percival’s hands as they circle the lady’s delicate waist, rough looking fingers clutching the fine silk of her dress, large palms dragging slowly down her back and over the soft curve of her buttocks, before giving a firm squeeze. He is too far to hear her gasp, but he can clearly see the way her mouth opens, the way her eyelashes flutter close, and her fingers spasm where they clutch Percival’s fancy jacket.

Heat pools in Credence belly and makes him cross his legs. His face is burning and he can hear Ma’s voice in his head, telling him what a _wicked, sinful boy_ he is. But he does not look away.

Percival is now kissing down the lady’s neck, one hand brushing tantalisingly close to her breast, the other still grabbing her backside and drawing her in against him. The lady’s head falls back, like a puppet with cut strings, before Percival pushes her back up again for another hungry, open mouthed kiss. Credence swallows the whimper climbing up his throat, and watches as Percival slowly and gently disentangles himself, playfully catching the lady’s lower lip between his teeth, hands caressing her body as they leave. A quick swipe off his thumb over her mouth, a few more whispered words, and Percival is turning away from her and making his way towards Credence and the _Serenity_ , his elegant suitcase held in his hand.

Once he spots him, Percival catches Credence’s gaze and smiles. Credence awkwardly smiles back, frantically trying to think of an excuse to explain why he is sitting outside, staring at Percival kiss his client like a pervert. He can feel his cheeks burn with embarrassment, the blush now spreading from the back of his neck to the top of his ears.

“Too much time in the sun, eh, my boy?” questions Percival as he draws nearer. Credence nods, dropping his gaze to stare at his toes. They are dirty from walking around the pad in sandals all day, Percival’s shoes on the other side, shine like a mirror, black leather polished within an inch of its life. “Let’s get back inside, I imagine Tina is already anxious to leave” he adds, ruffling Credence hair as he walks past him and into the ship.

Credence lets out a stuttering breath and turns to watch Percival’s back as he disappears into _Serenity_. No sense getting worried about being caught looking, he thinks wryly, it is not as Percival sees him as anything but a child, anyway.

***

Credence arrived to the _Serenity_ in a box.

He was part of a job Mary Lou Barebone had commissioned with the Captain and her crew.

(He was the job)

It was only by chance, and Newt’s unshakable habit of smuggling animals on board, that the crew found out that what they thought was a box full of medicine contained, in fact, a human being.

The Captain had gone ballistic at the discovery, ranting against Mary Lou and the Alliance while Queenie tried to calm her down, with little to no success. Meanwhile Credence, just awoken from his artificially induced slumber, found himself sitting in a box, buck naked and surrounded by strangers.

Survival instinct had kicked in and he had jumped out of the box, for once not caring about his state of undress or the ugly scars marking his body, and tried to make a run for it. He had managed to get quite far. Queenie and Jacob too busy trying to calm down the Captain, and Newt more concerned about checking whether or not there really was any medicine on the box, than chasing naked boys across the ship.

He had climbed up the rickety stairs over the cargo bay, running on unsteady legs across the metal walkways, until he spotted a door to the side. Not thinking twice, he had opened the door and climbed inside, only to find himself in a room straight out of a fantasy.

Richly woven tapestries hung over the walls, covering the plain, bare metal of the ship. The ceiling and floor were covered as well, long swaths of sumptuous looking cloth hung from the ceiling, and thick, luxurious rugs covered every inch of the floor. There were several pieces of furniture of mismatched styles, all richer and more beautiful than Credence had ever seen. The room was softly lit by antique looking lamps and a handful of strategically placed candles, giving off a soft welcoming glow.

He had tentatively made his way further in, too enchanted to notice the other occupant of the room until a soft voice spoke out behind his back.

“And who are you?”

Credence had quickly turned around at the words. A man stood at the other end of the room, dressed in a beautifully decorated silk robe, loosely tied at the waist, and a pair of just as beautiful and luxurious silk pants. He wore no shirt and Credence could see his strong chest, dusted with black hair, where the robe gaped open.

“I-I’m...I-I..” Credence had stuttered like a fool, walking backwards until his back was against the wall.

The other man had frowned, thick, heavy brows giving his expression a threatening air. When he advanced upon him, Credence had, instinctively, dropped to his knees, head bowed and arms raised to forestall the incoming blows.

Only no blows had come. Only a deep sigh, followed by a warm, soft blanket being dropped over his head.

“Here, you may want to cover yourself. It can get cold in space”

Credence had poked his head out from beneath the blanket, which felt infinitesimally softer than his own threadbare one back home. “Space?” He had asked, like a damn fool.

“A spaceship, to be more exact” had been the reply, the man now crouching down next to him, a wry smile on his lips “My name’s Percival Graves, I’m a Companion, I rent this shuttle from Tina to use as my… office, let’s say”

“A Companion?!” had asked Credence, alarmed. Ma had told him about Companions, sinful, debauched whores, who drove good men and women to sin and disgrace, through witchery and trickery. “I can’t be here!” he had shouted, getting to his feet and stumbling towards the door, feet tangled up with the long blanket.

“Can’t be- why?” had asked Percival, brows furrowed in confusion, but making no move to stop Credence’s escape.

“This is a den of iniquity!!” had declared Credence, loudly and more than slightly panicked, as he opened the door and tumbled, face down, into the corridor.

“Oh, here you are!” had exclaimed Newt from above him, as Credence fought to disentangle himself from the blanket. “Tina wants to speak with you. Hello, Percival” he had added on spotting the other man “Mind helping me get him back to the kitchen?”

Newt and Percival had grabbed him, tangled in the blanket as he was, and carried him to the kitchen, where the rest of the crew had been waiting. Queenie had immediately started fussing over him, patting his head and muttering about the unfairness and cruelty of the Verse. Jacob had not said anything, he had just smiled reassuringly at him while offering him plate after plate of warm, delicious food. The Captain had stared at him for a long while, before she started interrogating him. How did he know Mary Low? Had he ever met Mr. Shaw? Did he have any family, friends they could call?

(She was his adoptive mother. He had never met Mr. Shaw. He had no family or friends, Mary Lou had been the only one)

“I could be persuaded to let you join the crew” had declared the Captain “If you happened to have some skills we could use. Are you a Doctor, by any chance?”

Credence had shacked his head.

“Shame. We could have really used a doctor, Newt is doing the job now, but he is only a veterinarian, not quite the same…”

“I-I’m- I’m good with ships?” had stuttered Credence, hoping against hope that would be enough the let him stay “I used to fix Ma’s ship. Kept the engine running. It was an old Firefly model”

The Captain had beamed at him, as if Credence had just announced he would be buying her a brand new ship. “Firefly, you say?”

And that had been it.

***

“Door is open” announces Percival from inside the shuttle.

Credence quietly pushes the heavy door open and slips inside, making sure to toe off his sandals before stepping on the plush rugs that decorate every inch of the room.

“Sorry for the delay” he excuses himself as he comes into the room. Percival is puttering around on his small kitchenette, loading up a carved brass tray with his porcelain tea set.

“Don’t worry about it” says Percival, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture “I was just getting started. Take a seat, make yourself at home, kid”

Credence does not need to be told twice. He awkwardly lowers himself into his favourite pouffe, sinking into it, and resting his hands on the top of his knees. Percival, who has just finished loading the tray, carefully deposits it on the low, ornate wood table between them, before lowering himself into the chaise-lounge opposite him.

“Is it all okay with the engines?” he asks, a small dent appearing between his brows “If Tina needs you to work on them we can reschedule for-”

“No!” answers Credence, a little too fast, definitely to eager “No” he repeats, more calmly “The engines are fine. I was with Newt. He misses the kittens” he explains at Percival’s raised eyebrow.

Newt had grown particularly attached to Gnarlack’s smuggled kittens, in the short week it had taken the _Serenity_ to navigate from Bellerophone to Santo. He had begged and cajoled the Captain to let him keep one. _Just one tiny kitten, Tina, you won’t even notice her, I promise._ The Captain had been unwavering. Newt’s animal collection, she had said, had already grown way out of proportion.

As much as Credence had loved the idea of a small kitten, he had to agree with the Captain. The two dogs, the hamster, the parrot, and the toad, were already pushing it a bit too far as it were. The cargo bay was starting to resemble a freaking zoo.

“He’ll get over it in no time” declares Percival laying out two cups on the table and, purposefully, but calmly, filling them with tea. He has to hold up the sleeve of his silk robe, least it drags into the cups, and the gesture leaves his wrist bare. Credence finds his gaze drawn to it, the almost delicate looking bones and tendons, moving as Percival pours the tea, the dusting of fine black hairs, over his arm and the back of his hand. Percival, oblivious to his attention, continues “He got over losing the bloody awful _llama_ back in Triumph”

“Oh, yes” laughs Credence “It was an alpaca, actually. You absolutely loathed it, poor thing”

“It ate my silk scarf!” hisses Percival “It was a gift from Lady Villenies, pure, artisan, embroidered silk. It probably cost more than this damn shuttle”

“You can always get her to gift you another one” replies Credence, trying not to sound too bitter at the careless reminder of Percival’s wealth. He picks at a loose thread on his trousers, the knees are discolored from multiple washes. There’s a hole in the left one.

“That’s not the point” huffs Percival “Clients usually like it when I wear their gifts. It shows gratitude, and thoughtfulness. Makes them tip more” he adds, smirking.

Credence forces a smile back. He does not particularly enjoy talking about Percival’s clients. Although he no longer believes Mary Lou’s prejudiced lies about Companions, and their supposed debauchery, he still feels uncomfortable with the thought of Percival selling his attentions for money. No matter how many times Percival assures him he choses and vetoes, each and every one of his clients, that it is not all about sex.

Some displeasure must show in his face, because Percival sets down his cup and sighs “Credence, we’ve talked about this…”

“I know” he cuts him off, biting his lower lip, mentally cursing his own narrow-mindedness. It certainly is no business of his who Percival sleeps with, or if he is paid for it. It is not like he has any claim to the man, anyways. “I’m sorry. I guess Ma’s teaching rubbed off on me, no matter how much I dislike it”

“It has nothing to do with that woman” says Percival “Some people are just not wired like that, I guess. The others may be better at pretending than you are, but believe me, none of them understand why I do what I do either.”

“Why do you?” asks Credence, shyly. For all the discussions they have had about sexual freedom and agency, he cannot remember Percival ever explaining what even drove him to enrol in the Guild.

“I was the youngest of four brothers” starts Percival, reclining down on the pillows, clearly setting in for a long tale. Credence wiggles in his seat, crossing his arms over his knees, and resting his chin on them “My parents were well off, but trying to split an inheritance four ways is no easy business, no matter how large the fortune. Sending me to train with the Guild allowed me to learn a respectable profession, that would allow me to make a good living, and removed me from the inheritance battle at the same time.”

“Removed you?” questions Credence.

“Companions renounce their families the moment they enter the Guild. What possessions we have are those we earn ourselves. I must say, think I’ve done quite well in that aspect” he smiles, waving an arm around, in a grandiose gesture that encompasses the whole shuttle.

“A rented shuttle in a rundown Firefly cruiser, you really are living the high life”

Percival snorts, half-heartedly “I could have a brand new cruiser all to myself, if I wanted to. Travelling with the _Serenity_ is not only cheaper, but much more entertaining”

Credence hides a pleased smile behind his hands “Are you saying you would miss us, if you were to leave?” he teases.

“Yes, I would” answers Percival, without missing a beat. He looks serious as he says it, dark eyes fixed on Credence with unwavering intensity. Credence finds himself unable to look away, drawn into Percival’s gaze like a moth to a flame.

“I would miss you too” he croaks, mouth dry and face aflame. He would. Terribly. The mere thought of a life without Percival fills him with cold dread. Gone would be their talks in the shuttle, gone would be these wonderful pockets of time where he gets Percival all to himself, gone would be this perfect window into Percival, the man, instead of Percival, the Companion.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere” Percival declares, voice rough, cutting his musings short “And, last I knew, neither were you. So I guess you’ll have to put with this poor old man for a bit longer” he jokes, a self-deprecating smile on his mouth.

“You’re not that old” protests Credence, because, really.

“That’s kind of you to say,” smiles Percival, shaking his head “but I’m gonna be turning forty this year. I’m afraid people usually prefer their Companions a bit more on the younger side. In a few years I’ll be too old, grey and wrinkled to get any clients”

“I like your grey hair” blurts out Credence, and promptly blushes like a gorram tomato at Percival’s raised eyebrows “It makes you look distinguished, mature. There are plenty of people who are into that.”

“Are they?” asks Percival, smirking. Credence nods his head. There are. One of them is sitting in the shuttle right about now.

“I don’t know” muses Percival, laying back into his pillows and idly playing with the sleeve of his robe “I always planned on retiring, once I hit a certain age. Settle on some nice, peaceful world, well away from the Core’s politics and backstabbing. Maybe buy a farm”

“Percival, you hate animals” comments Credence, amused.

“I didn’t say I would actually _run_ the farm, did I?” jokingly protests Percival “I could hire someone to do it for me, I guess. I haven’t thought that far ahead. It is a nice dream, though, isn’t it?”

“Yes” agrees Credence “It’s a nice dream”

***

Gnarlack’s latest smuggling job takes the crew to Persephone. Their potential client, Madame Picquery, will be attending a party there and the Captain is planning to sneak her way in to make contact.

“A party, how delightful!” exclaims Queenie, once her sister finishes her explanation “It’s been ages since we’ve been to a party, hasn’t it, sweetie?”

“Far too long” agrees Jacob, looking back at her with a besotted smile “It will be the perfect occasion to try on that dress you bought back in Ariel”

“Only if you wear the tuxedo” jokes Queenie, trailing one finger down his arm in a flirty caress “I love how dapper you look on it”

“Is it mandatory?” blurts out Newt, and quickly lowers his eyes the moment the Captain turns her attention on him, looking to the side and fidgeting anxiously with his napkin “The party. I mean. You know I’m not that, um, great with people.” he mumbles.

“You can stay in the ship, if you prefer” responds the Captain, sounding slightly disappointed. Newt gives a quick nod, eyes still flitting all over the room. The Captain sighs to herself and turns to look at Credence “Will you come? You can stay with Newt if you want, there will be many people and-”

“I want to come” interrupts her Credence. He is not much better at people than Newt, but he has also never been to a party. Ma always said they were full of sinners, a place for self-indulgence, vice and debauchery. Now that he is a sinner himself, Credence reasons, he may as well attend. “I don’t have a tuxedo, though” he adds furrowing his brow. There has never been a need to buy one, and it is probably not something he can afford to buy on his meagre savings.

“I can lend you something” says Percival from where he is lazily lounging on one of the battered sofas, idly scrolling through his holo tablet “I have a few things that would probably fit you”

“I don’t want to be a bother-” starts to protest Credence, doing his best to squash his excitement at the chance to be able to wear Percival’s clothes.

“You’re not” Percival cuts him short, raising his eyes from the holo tablet and fixing them on Credence. "It would be ridiculous to let something as trivial as that keep you from attending the party. Although, I wonder” he says turning to look at the Captain “how exactly are you planning to enter the party?”

“What do you mean?” asks the Captain, annoyed.

“A party like this will be an exclusive affair. They won’t let any random riffle raffle through the door. Has Gnarlack provided you with invitations?” The Captain’s angry frown clearly indicates that, no, he has not. “Well, then good luck getting in” jokes Percival.

“Unless we don’t need an invite” declares the Captain. Percival arches an eyebrow at her, but she continues, undeterred, a determined glint in her gaze “These shindigs are all about knowing the right people, aren’t they? So we don’t need an invitation for ourselves, we just need to know the right person to get us in like, say, a prestigious Companion. What do you say, Graves, think you can stoop to being on my arm for one night?”

“Depends, will you wash it first?”

***

The party is nothing like Credence had imagined a party would be like.

After the excitement of the preparations (trying on a selection of Percival’s luxurious suits, and getting ready with Queenie, the two of them squished into the tiny wash room of the crew quarters, and riding to the hotel in a swanky and modern hoover car) the actual party is a complete disappointment.

The vice and debauchery Mary Lou had preached against with such vehemence are nowhere to be seen. The room is decorated lavishly enough, and there is more food than Credence has ever seen before in his life, but all enjoyment is taken away by the stiffness and formality of the whole affair.

Elegantly dressed men and women mill around the room, clustered together in little, private groups. Credence had tried to listen in to some of the conversations at the beginning, but had quickly grown bored. Politics, fashion, and local gossip are all subjects beyond his limited knowledge. There is a dancefloor, but it is no place for amateurs. All dancers look elegant and coordinated, not a step, or a hair, out of place, as they move to the tune of the music. Queenie and Jacob had valiantly tried their luck, but had been quickly chased out by nasty glares and bumpy elbows after a few missed steps.

As such, both of them have now been relegated to stand with Credence on the sidelines, watching as Percival dances and flirts with one guest after the other. The Captain quickly abandoned Percival’s side the moment they arrived, more concerned with locating Madame Picquery than playing fancy socialite. A gaggle of women had swarmed Percival soon after, and he has had his hands full since then. Probably building up quite the client database, Credence thinks angrily, and then immediately regrets it. _Not my business_ he bitterly reminds himself, turning his attention from the dancefloor to the buffet table, the only element of this whole party that has, so far, lived up to his expectations.

As he is piling up his plate with delicious looking cakes and fresh fruits, he cannot help but overhear one young gentleman boasting about his newly purchased _Libellula_ cruiser.

“-and it comes with a 4 cylinder, fully automated, _Beta-89_ engine” he is saying, leaning with his hip on the buffet table and basking on the attention of the small crowd surrounding him “The salesman assured me it is the smoothest running, longest lasting engine on the market”

Credence snorts, shaking his head. Smoothest running engine on the market his ass.

“Find something funny, boy?” asks the young gentleman, clearly irritated at having his new purchase questioned. His friends all turn and fixate their attention on Credence.

“Not at all, sir” quickly responds Credence, clutching his plate closer to his chest “I just- The _Beta-89,_ it’s- it’s not…”

“Not what?” pushes the man.

“It’s not smooth running _at all”_ declares Credence refusing to be cowed by some posh dandy from the Chore “It has a mean back kick, and the accelerator has a tendency to stall, after a short use. The whole _Libellula_ line suffers from engine issues, they tried to automate too many things and pushed them to Market without proper testing. They are only selling well because of the exterior design” he finishes in a rush. He may know nothing about Chore politics, or the latest fashions, but engine and spaceship are his thing.

The young gentleman stares at him, speechless.

“Ha! Looks like you got robbed, Joshua!” laughs on of his companions “Should have done as I said and bought the newest _Firefly_ model. Now, _that_ is a good ship. A classic”

“Well, the new models have as many engine issues as the _Libellula’s_ ” points out Credence, distractedly munching on a delicious slice of strawberry shortcake. “They are not as automated, true, but the powertrain is way too old, and they have not made the necessary changes to it to support the newer engine models-“

Without meaning to, Credence suddenly finds himself surrounded by an avid crowd of young, handsome gentlemen, all of them hanging into his every word and nodding along, as he reviews the full catalogue of cruisers, pointing out their strengths and weaknesses, and the best way to get around them.

Having so many (handsome) people paying attention to him, would usually cause Credence to blush furiously and start stuttering like a nervous child. Today, however, he finds himself completely at ease. Despite their fancy clothes, impressive jobs and ridiculously huge bank accounts, these men have little to no idea of what makes an engine _tick_. They listen to his words as if they were the gospel, shyly interrupting him on occasion, to ask for a specific model or feature they have heard about, and oohing and aahing in amazed understanding when he breaks it down for them.

He does not even need to worry about re-filling his plate or his glass either, as his listeners immediately hail over a waiter the moment food starts to go low. This, thinks Credence nibbling on his fifth dark chocolate brownie and pontificating on the merits of ancient combustion engines, is what a party should really be like.

Of course, that is the precise moment the Verse decides to, once again, shit all over his happiness.

“Well, then I challenge you to a duel!” booms the Captain’s voice all across the ballroom.

Everything stops. Conversations grow silent, dancers stop moving, and the orchestra abruptly screeches to a standstill. Every single guest in the party turns their attention to the scene taking place in the middle of the room. Using his height to his advantage, Credence spots the Captain, face red with anger, standing across a rat-faced, pompous looking man. Percival is standing behind her, amongst the crowd of curious party-goers, pinching his brow while he slowly shakes his head.

“I accept the challenge” sneers the rat-faced man, looking down his nose at the Captain “As the challenged, it is my right to set the time and date of the duel. I thus-“

“Time and date?” the Captain snorts “Right here, right now, you colossal dick”

She rolls up her sleeves and purposefully advances towards her adversary, only to be stopped by Percival quickly grabbing her arm and forcefully dragging her backwards.

“What the- Graves! Release me right now!” shouts the Captain, trying to shake herself free of the grip “I’m gonna punch this asshole’s face in”

“You’ll do no such thing” hisses Percival at her from between clenched teeth “Duels in Persephone are regimented by very strict rules. Breaking Duelling Etiquette will land you in prison”

“Wha- That’s stupid!” the Captain protests “I don’t need no rules to punch his face in”

Percival scowls at her, expression stormy, before turning to face her opponent “Lord Abernathy, state your terms” he says.

“Odysseus Park, two days from now, at sundown” Lord Abernathy says.

“First blood?” Percival asks, keeping his grip on the Captain, who is still trying to shake herself free.

“To the Death” replies Lord Abernathy, a vicious, haughty, smile on his face.

***

“You know,” Percival says to the Captain “it is allowed to nominate a stand-in to represent you in a duel”

The whole crew is sitting in the _Serenity_ ’s kitchen, still in their fancy clothes from the party, discussing the best ways to keep their Captain alive after her reckless challenge to Lord Abernathy.

“Are you offering, Graves?” the Captain asks, raising a mocking eyebrow, as she slumps back against her chair.

Percival snorts “My duelling days are well behind me” he says “I meant you could hire someone-”

“I’m not spending my money in some fancy mercenary” the Captain curtly declares, interrupting him “And, I don’t know where you think we would find someone willing to fight for _me_ , especially if it means going against one of those rich pigs”

“You never know” Graves says with a careless shrug “maybe one of Credence’s admirers would be up to the task” he adds with a teasing smirk thrown Credence way.

“Why? Are yours not available?” Credence snaps, still irritated at having so suddenly been taken from the one party where people seemed willing to speak with him.

Percival turns to stare at him in surprise, brows furrowed in slight confusion, at the cattiness of his tone. Credence ducks his head, a self-conscious blush spreading furiously over his cheeks, ashamed of his own rudeness. He knows Percival was just teasing him in good faith, but even his newfound, so-called ‘admirers’, cannot completely erase the memories of Percival dancing with one Lady after the other, all of them decked in the finest dresses and jewelry, and more beautiful than Credence could ever hope to be.

“We are not hiring a stand-in” the Captain says, pointedly ignoring Credence’s sulking.

“But, Teenie,” interrupts Queenie, brows furrowed in concern as she lightly rests a hand over her sister’s “Percival said the duels are fought with swords. You have never held a sword in your life. Isn’t it a tad too reckless to challenge Lord Abernathy all by yourself, with so little experience?”

“Swords can’t be that hard” the Captain dismissively huffs “Graves will teach me”

“Will I?” Percival asks, raising an enquiring eyebrow “And why would I do that?”

“Because it will mean you get to demonstrate one of those fancy, useless skills of yours, that you always seem so proud of, and you get to boss me around for a few days. Both things that, you will agree, use to make you very happy”

“Indeed, they do” agrees Percival “especially the bossing around part”

The Captain snorts “And It’s not like you have anything better to do, anyway”

“No” Percival says, looking over at Credence “I guess I do not”

***

Credence finishes his routine engine check and is decides to head to the kitchen for a much needed snack. He would usually go to Percival’s shuttle for some tea and pastries, but Percival has not said a word to him since Credence’s stupid outburst the night before, and Credence has not yet managed to muster up the courage to apologise for his words.

In his way he spots Newt sitting on the walkway, legs dangling over the edge, as he looks at something down in the cargo bay.

“What are you doing?” Credence asks.

Newt does not respond. He just points his head towards the cargo bay down below. Credence follows his eyes to find the Captain and Percival, engaged in what looks to be a fencing lesson.

The Captain is wearing a pair of old, faded, cargo pants, and a tight tank top that leaves her strong arms bare. Even from up the walkway Credence can appreciate the defined shape of her muscles, shiny with sweat, as she runs through a series of complicated exercises. Opposite her, Percival is decked out in full fencing attire. The white vest hugs his powerful torso and emphasizes the marked vee of hips. His pants, if they can even be called that, define his legs and stretch, tight, across a perfectly round and muscled ass.

Credence swallows, his mouth suddenly dry, and wordlessly sits himself down next to Newt, eyes never leaving Percival’s glorious derriere.

***

In the end, much to Percival’s exasperation, and Queenie’s relief, the Captain wins the duel by punching Lord Abernathy in the face.

She also spares his life, in an apparently magnanimous gesture, that is yet obviously designed to inflict him maximum humiliation. Percival looks absolutely horrified at the sheer number of duelling rules the Captain is breaking but, in a rare stroke of luck, it turns out that her brash, daring, attitude has managed to impress Madame Piqcuery enough to concede them an audience to discuss potential business.

This time, when they all sit together in the _Serenity’_ s kitchen, the atmosphere is festive and celebratory. The Captain keeps retelling, once and once again, how she managed avoid defeat, even after having lost her sword, by going back to basics and punching Lord Abernathy straight into the middle of his rat-like nose. Newt, who is stitching her up, smiles and nods his head, amused, as he re-affirms his admiration for her fighting skills and his firm advocacy of peaceful conflict resolution.

“Like teaching a pig how to fly” grouses Percival as the Captain demonstrates once again her winning maneuver and sends half of Newt’s medical kit flying.

Credence risks a look at him out of the corner of his eyes. Percival is staring back, a resigned smile on his lips. “I guess you’re the only member of this Gorram Verse forsaken crew with any appreciation for traditional arts, my boy”

Credence is quick to return the smile, eager to accept Percival’s subtle olive branch offering. “I don’t know” he says, careful not to break eye contact “I feel like I would not fare much better than the Captain at fencing. I’m not a fighter”

“Nonsense” Percival replies “You’re a fighter through and through. Not all fights are about bruised faces and angry fists. Not the ones that count, anyway”

Credence ducks his head, hiding a pleased smile “I’d still rather stick with Tea and Poetry as my arts of choice, if you don’t mind. Less of a chance of ending up with a black eye or a broken nose”

“And such a glorious nose it is” Percival jokes, leaning over to lightly poke him on the tip. Credence laughs, as he self-consciously wipes a hand over his large nose, too happy to be once again joking with Percival to complain about his obviously unsound flattery.

***

Madame Picquery’s job is legal, safe and well paid, well worth all the hassle they had to go through to achieve it. By the time they finish, the whole crew is completely unharmed, well rested and in a remarkable good mood. Even their daily disputes about whose turn it is to do the dishes, or the Captain’s and Newt’s regular discussions about the space allocated to his beasts, are tinged with a veil of contentment.

Life is good, Credence decides as he lies sprawled over the pillows in Percival’s shuttle, listening to Percival recite some raunchy poetry out of a book one of his last clients gifted him with.

From his position, Credence has a wonderful, unobserved view of Percival, reclining on the chaise-lounge across from him. The weather in Triumph, the primitive, yet peaceful, planet they just landed on, is almost unbearably hot, and the _Serenity’_ s outdated Air Conditioning system does not make much of a difference. Percival started the day in a freshly pressed shirt, cravat and his preferred silk robe. With the shirt and the tie having been discarded sometime around midday, Credence is now eagerly waiting for the robe to follow in their steps. Percival already untied the sash and left it to fall open about an hour ago, giving Credence a delicious glorious view of his chest. He has spent all the time since cataloguing every inch of it, from the way the dusting of black and white hairs in the middle gets thinner and thicker as it descends to his navel, to the enticing curves of his pelvic muscles as they disappear under the waistband of his silk pants.

He fantasises about what would happen if he were to stand up and approach Percival. What would his reaction be if Credence crawled up his body to kiss the small beads of sweat forming on his collarbone and sliding, torturously slow, over his chest. He seriously considers risking a quick kiss, a simple peck, and blaming the heat if the reaction is not favourable. It would hardly be a lie. Between the warm, humid temperature of the shuttle, and the tantalising cadence of Percival’s slightly raspy baritone, Credence feels like he is burning from the inside out, limbs heavy and head pounding.

He is just scrounging up the courage and the energy to move his limbs, when the Captain bursts through the door, without knocking, as she is wont to do.

“Get ready to leave, boys!” she says, looking unreasonably peppy for such a hot day “Provisions have been re-stocked, beasts have been corralled into their cages, and we even picked up a passenger on the way back”

“You found a passenger?” Percival asks, voice heavy with disbelief. Credence cannot blame him, Triumph is as poor as it is peaceful, it would be rare enough to find someone willing to leave, nevermind being able to afford the Captain’s passage fee. Although, that would easily explain her cheery disposition.

“A professor” she answers “He was here doing some research on local history and lore. His ship broke down, leaving him stranded, and he was quite happy to hitch a ride with us instead of waiting for a commercial cruiser. I offered him the spare bunk in the crew quarters, so I’ll need you to store your mechanic experiments elsewhere for a few days, Credence”

“Sure” Credence agrees quickly. He is used to sharing his quarters with random passengers, from time to time. God, he hopes the professor is not a snorer. The last passenger they picker up had been so bad Credence had ended up sleeping in the engine room for the better part of the trip “I’ll clear everything straight away”

“Great” the Captain says “I’ll let Professor Grindelwald know. We’ll be having a quick bite in the kitchen before we lift off, I’ll see you there” she starts to make her way out when she pauses, and turns to glare at Percival “For gorram’s sake, put on some clothes, will you?” she snaps, because she is devoid of a libido and has no sense of appreciation for the beauty of the human form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know your thoughts in the comments :)
> 
> Some references you may have spotted in the fic:  
> \- Fic title taken from the lyrics of the Ballad of Serenity, the opening credits song  
> \- All planet names are actuial planets from the series  
> \- I didn't link characters to their Firefly counterparts too much, focusing more on their "Job" and role within the story than their personalities, but the equivalents would be: Tina/Malcolm Reynolds, Queenie/Zoe Washburne, Newt/Mix of Jayne & Simon Tam, Jacob/Wash, Graves/Inara Serra, Credence/Mix of Kaylee & River Tam  
> \- Credence's box: in Firefly, River is the one to arrive in a box, instead of Kaylee (the role Credence is more closely linked to), but I guessed stuffing her own son on a box is the kind of bulsshit Mary Lou would pull. It also served as a nice backstory to explain Credence joining the crew.  
> \- “This is a den of iniquity!!” This is actually a quote from Supernatural, but it just fit too well.  
> \- Shinding: the chapter title is the same as an actual Firefly episode, which contains the gala & duel storyline.  
> \- "think you can stoop to being on my arm for one night?”/ “Depends, will you wash it first?” Actual dialogue from The Shinding, between Mal and Inara.  
> \- Triumph: Same planet where the crew picked up Saffron (for those of you familiar with the series, this is a big clue as to what role Grindelwald will play)


	2. Our Mr. Barebone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update for this is way faster than I expected. Gosh, I'm on fire lately. Thank you everyone who commented and kudo'd on the first chapter, I'm glad you liked it :)
> 
> Small WARNING on this one: there's a short moment of non-con, it's nothing explicit and no one gets hurt, but it's there and I wouldn't want anyone to stumble into it without at least a small heads up.

After the first week of travel it quickly becomes clear Professor Grindelwald is mostly interested in three things, stories about the Earth-that-was, the  _ Serenity _ , and Credence.

It is quite the unexpected situation for Credence who, up until that point, had quietly resigned himself to always be overlooked in favour of his more attractive and interesting crewmates. Who would notice an awkward mechanic from a backwater planet in a crew that counts Percival and Queenie among its members? Even Newt and the Captain, although not as unfairly attractive as them, still find themselves in possession of quite pleasant looks, and unique skillsets and abilities to make them stand out from the crowd. 

Jacob may be the only crewmember more overlooked than Credence but, given that he has Queenie’s absolute, and utterly dedicated attention, it is not like he cares much about anyone else’s.

The guests at the party back in Persephone remain the one notable exception to Credence’s invisibility rule, and even that had been nothing but a brief, blink and you’ll miss it, occurrence. Professor Grindelwald has been nothing if not steady in his obvious interest and Credence is, despite his best intent, quite flattered.

The Professor spends most of his time in the engine bay with Credence, asking all sorts of questions about the inner workings of the engine, the replacements and fixes Credence has been doing all over the years, and even his small mechanical experiments. It is not a merely polite interest either. The Professor has repeatedly proven himself to be quite knowledgeable in all technological matters, even suggesting a few improvements to the percolator system Credence had never considered before.

It is a nice change, for once, to be able to discuss his passion with someone who appears to share his interest in the subject. God knows Percival does his best to try and understand the engines, politely listening to Credence’s ramblings and offering what little commentary he can with  his limited knowledge. It is not quite the same though. Despite his good intentions, it is painfully obvious engineering and mechanics are not exactly within Percival’s areas of interest, and that whatever enthusiasm he displays about them is more pretense than anything else. Professor Grindelwald, on the other hand, not only knows what he is talking about, but also seems to be quite passionate about it.

Credence cannot be blamed for enjoying spending time with him. Although he does feel a bit guilty about neglecting his usual meetings with Percival to do so.

***

“I need to stop for two days at Dyton” Percival announces over lunch, in a tired, monotone voice, not even bothering to look up from his plate.

It is the first time he has spoken since he sat down at the table. He has not replied to Credence’s stilted attempts at conversation, or Queenie’s cheery questions about his day, with anything more than uninterested ‘hums’ and nods, staring resolutely at his food for the whole time. Breakfast was not much better, although he had managed a curt ‘Good morning’, and he has been in a bit of a mood for the best part of the past week.

Credence would like to think he misses their private meetings, but knows that is mostly wishful thinking on his part, Percival probably has more important things to worry about, and Credence should not flatter himself so much as to think spending time with him ranks even in his top ten of priorities.

“Dyton?” The Captain enquires, a soft frown on her face “That’s a bit of a detour. What business could you possibly have there?”

“A client” is the curt response.

“Of course it’s a client” The Captain retorts, sounding more than a little annoyed at Percival’s dismissive tone “I’m asking because it’s a bit unexpected, that’s all. You’re usually pretty good at managing your schedule according to our route”

“It just came up” Percival replies, finally raising his head to look at the Captain “Can you make the detour or not?”

The Captain stares back, slowly chewing her food, before answering “I guess” she turns to look  at Professor Grindelwald, fixing a polite smile on her lips, as she asks “Would it inconvenience you much, Professor? It will probably add a few extra days to the journey”

“Well…” muses the Professor, looking oddly uncomfortable at having been put on the spot all of sudden “I was really keen on getting to Hera on time, you did promise me you were the fastest ship in the ‘Verse back in Triumph” he says, with an affably teasing smile.

“We are!” exclaims the Captain, always quick to defend  _ Serenity _ from any potential type of slander “We will get you to Hera on time. Graves,” she says, turning to look at the other man “can’t you re-schedule your appointment? We could be in Dyton in a week or so-”

“Nevermind” Percival snaps, dropping his fork on the plate with a loud clatter, and standing up abruptly “I’ll cancel it. Hopefully I’ll be able to find something else in Hera”

“I’m so terribly sorry” the Professor says, as Percival starts collecting his cutlery and plate from the table, meal half-finished “I hate that you have to lose work on my account… Although, I believed Companions were usually the ones to set the date and location of their, uhm, encounters?”

Percival drops his plate into the kitchen’s counter with a loud clank, making Credence flinch, and the whole table go silent. He turns around abruptly, the tails of his silk robe flaring dramatically at the movement, as he fixes his dark, intense gaze on Professor Grindelwald.

“I didn’t realize you were familiar with Companions’ policies” he says, with a smile that does not reach his eyes, but still does a wonderful job of showing all his teeth, white, and gleaming and dangerous.

“Just a bit” the Professor calmly replies, apparently nonplussed by Percival’s less than friendly disposition “old acquaintance of mine told me a few things”

“Is that so?” Percival asks, still laying on the patently fake charm rather thickly. Credence fidgets anxiously in his seat, and discreetly catches Queenie’s eye across the table, she looks as uncomfortable as he feels.

“Tell me,” Percival continues, sauntering closer to the table and smiling down at the Professor “anyone I may know?”

“I don’t think so” The Professor replies, tensely smiling back.

“Pity” Percival says, straightening up “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I have some calls to do. Credence, will I see you later for tea?” 

He sounds completely nonchalant, not particularly interested on the answer, but Credence has known him long enough to detect the undercurrent of uncertainty behind the façade of confidence. He looks down at his own plate, idlessly pushing the food around with his fork, as he tries to summon the courage to answer.

“Credence and I were planning to look at the routing in the navigation system this afternoon” Professor Grindelwald informs Percival, before Credence even has a chance to open his mouth.

Percival’s expression turns thunderous for a brief moment, before he schools his features back into the bland pleasantness he uses when dealing with particularly difficult clients over the vid-com.

“I see” he says, gazing thoughtfully between Credence and the Professor. 

Credence curls into himself, hunching his shoulders, in a pathetic attempt to hide from that penetrating gaze. He hears Percival snort softly before he storms out of the room, the tails of his robe fluttering after him. Silence falls, thick and awkward over the kitchen, broken only by the loud clanking sound of Percival’s angry steps as he climbs the staircase up to his shuttle. 

(It would be more accurate to say Percival  _ stomps _ his way up to the shuttle, if it were not for the fact that Percival is way too serious and dignified to behave himself in a way more befitting a five year old)

They hear the bang of the shuttle door slamming close all the way across the ship.

***

“Companions really are fickle things, aren’t they?” Professor Grindelwald comments later that day, as he and Credence work on the engine routing mechanism. It does not really need updating, or so Credence had thought, but the Professor insists the calculations are taking too long, and there should be a better way to re-wire the sensors.

After two hours of tinkering, Credence can still see nothing wrong with it, but the work has proven to be a nice distraction from his Percival-centered thoughts, so he has happily gone along with it.

He definitely does not appreciate Grindelwald bringing up the same subject he had been so desperately hoping to avoid.

“Percival is not fickle” he says, stopping his work to address the Professor directly. Whatever bug may have gotten behind Percival’s ear as of late, Credence will not stand for having his character brought into question. Not even by Professor Grindelwald.

The Professor merely hums in response, distractedly playing with the rotary shift in his hands. It is quite clear he does not share Credence’s opinion, but is politely avoiding confronting him about it. 

Somehow, that just seems to irk Credence even more. What does Professor Grindelwald know, anyway? He has only known Percival for a week, and has barely interacted with him at all during that time. 

“He is not fickle” he snaps, sounding rather impertinent, even to his own ears. He sighs, taking a deep breath to calm himself “You just don’t know him that well” he adds, to soften the sting of his words.

“Of course” Professor Grindelwald readily agrees “I apologise. You’re right, my boy, I don’t know him near well enough to be making such assumptions, and if he has managed to secure such a high opinion from bright, kind-hearted person like yourself, he must surely be a most remarkable man”

Credence nods stiffly,  feeling himself color slightly at the Professor’s implied flattery. He has never been good with compliments, and still has not managed to figure out how to properly respond to the Professor’s unending stream of praise. He mostly just blushes, stutters, and makes a terrible embarrassment out of himself. It is a credit to the Professor’s barely-concealed interest that he is not even slightly put off by it.

“I must admit I’m not overly familiar with Companions” the Professor admits, sitting himself down next to Credence, so close their thighs are almost touching.

Credence discreetly pulls his legs closer together, increasing the space in between them by a few inches.

“You said you knew one” he says, to keep the conversation going so he does not have to think too closely about the implications of the Professor’s apparent disregard for personal space.

(Or how he wishes Percival were as careless with personal space as the Professor)

“I did,” Professor Grindelwald says, looking off into the distance, his voice taking on a slightly whimsical tone “many years ago”

“What happened?” Credence asks.

“We had a fallout” is the easy reply “Wanted different things, I guess. Albus hasn’t spoken to me since then”

“I’m sorry” Credence murmurs “Why?” he asks, before he can help himself. It is incredibly rude of him to be prying so much into the Professor’s private affairs, but his curiosity gets the better of him.

“I wanted him to quit the Guild so we could be together. He refused, and I- well, some people may be more tolerant than I am, but I was unable to stomach the thought of the man I loved sleeping with different people every other week. You probably think me an old-fashioned, narrow-minded fool” the Professor shakes his head sadly as he says this.

“I wouldn’t have liked it either” Credence admits, voice low and hurried, as if he were confessing a most private secret. In some ways, it kind of is. He has never told anyone how his stomach twists and churns with bitter jealousy every time he sees Percival with one of his clients. Has never confessed to the dark, angry thoughts that cloud his mind on some nights, as he lays sad and alone in his cot, and imagines Percival in some random woman’s luxuriously decadent bed, wishing desperately he was with him instead.

“Love shouldn’t be for sale,” the Professor declares, apparently emboldened by Credence’s quiet confession “and for someone to give themselves away so easily… It cheapens the intimacy of a true relationship”

Credence nods, stilted, uncomfortable at hearing his own thoughts voiced so clearly. _ Some people are just not wired like that, _ Percival had said, always so understanding. It kind of feels like a betrayal to him to so readily agree with the Professor, but Credence has always wanted more, and since Percival’s attention and friendship had never been enough, no matter how much he wished it, he would be foolish to assume sharing him with hundred others would be.

Credence is an avaricious, greedy boy, as Ma would say, and he wants too much of what he cannot have.

“You think so, too, mmh?” the Professor asks, voice growing low and intimate, as he leans closer into Credence’s space, eyelids lowered over his mismatched eyes.

He smells like mentol candy, Credence realises, this close up. The smell clogs his throat, dense and unpleasant, and he pulls away, as much as he can, so there is some much needed distance between them. He promptly finds himself corralled against the wall.

When he hesitantly lifts his eyes, feeling awkward and uncomfortable due to the sudden proximity, it is to find the Professor’s mismatched gaze already fixed on him.

The Professor is not a bad looking man. He is older than him, yes, but then again, so is Percival, and Credence has never found that to be a problem. Rather the opposite, Percival’s greying temples and weathered face make him all the more attractive in his eyes. So, it clearly is not his age that is the problem, even if Professor Grindelwald is well past his prime, and has obviously not gone through the same pains as Percival in keeping himself in top shape. Objectively speaking, Credence cannot find a reason to reject the man’s advances, he is attractive, well-off, and interested in him enough that, even with his complete lack of romantic awareness, Credence has been able to notice.

He is unlikely to ever get someone better, and it would be unwise to reject him simply based on the fact that he is not Percival.

Credence knows all of that and, yet, he cannot stop himself from violently flinching away the moment the Professor tries to caress his cheek, banging his head quite loudly against the wall. His breath comes out in short, panicked gasps, and his belly twists itself into nervous knots, as he stares back at Professor Grindelwald and the hand still raised in the space between them.

“I’m sorry” he says, “I’m not-”

“Interested?” the Professor finishes for him, raising one sardonic eyebrow “Of course not. You only have eyes for your dear Mr. Graves” he does not sound even remotely sad about it. In fact, the tone of his voice would probably be best described as mocking.

Credence bristles. He opens his mouth to either defend, or deny, his feelings, he is not quite sure, when the Professor rapidly snakes his hand into his hair, pulling at it so that Credence is forced  to come closer. He gasps in surprise, raising his own hands to try and disentangle Grindelwald’s fingers from where they have twisted into his hair, but the man’s grip is firm and surprisingly strong, and he pulls sharply, causing Credence to cry out in pain.

“Thankfully, your ‘interest’ has never really mattered much” Grindelwald says, a vicious smile twisting in his mouth.

Panic rises, sharp and biting, within Credence, as he finds the situation quickly spiralling out of his control. He tries, once again, to pull away, but Grindelwald’s grip is as unyielding as an iron hook, and despite his struggles he can do nothing to stop the kiss.

Grindelwald’s lips are cold, and his moustache itches where it grazes Credence’s upper lip. The smell of mentos is overwhelming. It clogs his nostrils and saps the strength straight out of his bones, leaving him weak and dizzy, and unable to stop his mind from slipping into blackness.

***

He comes to the sharp pain of someone slapping his cheek.

“Credence!” a distinctly feminine voice calls “Wake up, Credence!”

The second slap startles him wide awake and causes a sharp pain to erupt behind his eyes.

“Finally!” the voice says. 

A few blinks help bring the world into focus, and Credence can spot the Captain leaning over him, looking a perplexing mix of harried and angry. Next to her, Newt hovers anxiously, his stethoscope still hanging from his ears. 

“Wha- what happened?” Credence asks. His mouth is dry, and his tongue feels sluggish and way too big. He swallows, in a fruitless effort to regain sensation.

“The good professor was a plant” the Captain says, as Newt helps Credence sit up. He needs to stop himself from vomiting at the sudden motion “He took both of you out” she adds, pointing behind her, to where Queenie is tenderling dressing a wound on Jacob’s head. Jacob raises a hand and smiles at him in solidarity.

“H-how?” Credence mumbles, his brain feels filled with cotton, slow and dense.

“Narcotic compound,” Newt explains “spread over a seal on his lips. Just a kiss and, pow! I gave you an Adrenaline shot to wake you up”

Credence blushes hotly in humiliation. He does not know what is worse, the fact that Grindelwald took his first kiss, the one he had been painfully saving for a greatly hypothetical future where Percival loved him back, or that the whole crew now knows about it.

“I didn’t want it” he defends himself, feeling tears sting at the corner of his eyes. The mere memory of it makes him want to retch.

“Shhh, we know” the Captain says, clumsily patting his hair. Credence discreetly leans into the touch, as Newt reaches out hesitantly to grab his shoulder, in a well-intentioned effort to be reassuring. It kind of does make him feel better.

“He tried the same trick on Jacob,” Queenie pipes up, looking up from where she has finished tying a neat, fabulous-looking bow on the bandages around Jacob’s head “but he managed to hold him off. He has lotsa experience fending off fervent admirers” she smiles, dropping a light kiss on the top of her husband’s head.

Jacob snorts “More like I was absolutely flabbergasted at him trying to put the moves on me after a whole week of ignoring my very existence” he jokingly says “When that did not work he just socked me in the head. I gotta say, I would probably have liked the kiss better”

“Shush, you!” Queenie smiles, swatting him on the shoulder “You said he was not your type!”

“Well, honey,” Jacob answers, smiling winningly up at her “I  _ do _ have a weakness for blondes”

Queenie giggles, obviously charmed, and Credence finds a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“So, this is the situation” the Captain says, awkwardly clearing her throat “you got assaulted, Jacob got beaten, and then Graves found you here” she explains, looking behind her.

Following her gaze, Credence spots Percival, slouched against one of the walls of the engine bay, his legs sprawled out before him, and his clothes slightly rumpled up from where he, apparently, slid down to the floor.

“And then I fell” Percival says, words slurred and barely intelligible “My head got hurt, like Jacob” he says, pointing vaguely in Jacob’s direction with an uncoordinated wave of his arm. He then blinks a few times, slowly, as if needing to re-set his focus.

The Captain rolls her eyes in exasperation “Thankfully he managed to shout for help before he tripped over his ridiculous robe and brained himself against the gorram engine”

Percival glares dazedly at her, his eyes going slightly crossed in the middle. 

“I don’t get any of this” Credence murmurs. His head hurts worse than when he and Percival polished off a whole bottle of fine aged whiskey between the two of them, only this time he does not even have the consolation of having seen Percival drunk and clad in nothing but a pair of black, silk briefs. Life is decidedly unfair.

“I just fell, that’s all” Percival protests, from his sprawl on the floor, looking increasingly distressed for no apparent reason. 

“What’s the status now?” Credence asks, pointedly ignoring him. He does not think he will be able to look Percival in the face ever again without the memory of Grindelwald marring his every thought, which is a terrible pity, considering how much he likes it.

“We’re shut down. Grindelwald locked the bridge, and stole one of our shuttles” Newt says.

“We haven’t been able to re-open it” Jacob adds “all we know for certain is we’re headed somewhere and it ain’t Hera”

“I think I could bypass the navigation system…?” Credence says, his brain already sorting through potential fixes. Only God knows what Grindelwald has done to his precious ship while he has been out, but Credence has not spent every day for the last five years toiling away within the  _ Serenity _ ’s engine bay for nothing.

The Captain’s face lights up “That’s great!” she exclaims, as she hauls him up to a standing position, holding him steady when he wavers in place “I’ll help, just tell me what to do. Queenie, you and Jacob go up to the armory and get some explosives to blow the bridge door open”

“I’ll go check on Percival” Newt says, collecting his medical kit and approaching the other man, where he still lies on the floor.

“Oh, no, I’m fine” Percival says, distractedly waving Newt away “I don’t need to be examined”

Newt pauses, stethoscope half raised above Percival’s chest.

“I’m comfortable” Percival adds, raising his eyebrows at Newt, in a silent challenge, and shifting around slightly.

Newt looks back at the Captain, looking skeptical, but makes no move to come closer.

The Captain rolls her eyes “Leave him be,” she says making her way to the door, stepping over Percival’s legs as she does so. Credence follows quietly behind her, pointedly avoiding meeting Percival’s eyes “we have more important things to worry about right now”

Still not looking fully convinced, Newt stuffs the stethoscope back in the bag, and takes out a small baby monitor instead.

“Just shout if you need any help” he says, carefully placing the baby monitor next to Percival, ignoring the extremely offended glare he gets in return “I have the other one with me” he adds, waving a matching baby monitor in front of Percival’s scowling face, before joining the Captain and Credence at the door.

“I’m not one of your gorram beasts!” Percival’s angry voice follows them as they step into the corridor and make their way towards the bridge.

***

“I’ll keep your secret” Credence tells Percival later, when he comes to help him out of the engine bay and up to his shuttle.

“My secret?” Percival asks, voice still coming out slightly dazed. He is leaning quite heavily on Credence, although his steps are more sure than expected.

“You’re a very graceful man, Percival” Credence starts.

“I- thank you?”

“So here's where I'm fuzzy,” Credence continues “you got by Grindelwald, came and found me, and then you just happened to trip and fall?”

Percival abruptly stops walking, looking at Credence with slightly alarmed eyes “What do you mean?” he snaps.

“It’s okay,” Credence reassures him “you don’t have to pretend with me. I fell for the same trick, you know” he adds with a self-deprecating smile.

“...The same trick” Percival dumbly repeats, obviously still quite heavily under the influence of Grindelwald’s narcotic.

“So, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone Grindelwald managed to kiss you as well” It is more than enough for just one of them to bear this shame.

“Thanks…?” Percival says, brows furrowed in obvious confusion. Credence nods, satisfied, and gently pushes Percival to resume his walk. 

***

They say ‘all’s well that ends well’ and Credence would usually be quite happy to agree. Despite the stolen shuttle, and the blown up bridge door, they managed to escape Grindelwald’s trap with no major damages to either the ship or its crew. In fact, he expects the heaviest blow was to Percival’s pride as a Companion.

Credence should be feeling happy, satisfied, or, at least, relieved. He did play a key role in re-routing the ship back to Hera and away from whatever dire trap Grindelwald planned to take them to. Most people would agree that most than made up for having fallen for Grindelwald’s deception. And yet, as he sits in his cot later that night, listening to Newt’s soft snores, his mind seems resolutely stuck on reminding him how easily he let himself be played. So, what if he rejected Grindelwald in the end? He had still been happy to enjoy his company and attention for the rest of the trip, all it had taken were a few kind words and Credence had shown the man everything he needed to know about the  _ Serenity. _

He sighs, kicking his blankets aside, and silently walks out of the room. He does not have a clear destination in mind. The engine bay is where he usually goes to think, but the memory of Grindelwald still hangs over it like a dark cloud, and Credence cannot step a foot within without feeling nauseous. He cannot go to Percival with this either, the mere idea of it makes his insides twist with shame.

He ends up before the Captain’s room.

“I didn’t know where else to go” he mumbles when she opens the door, hair and clothes rumpled from sleep, and squints  up at him with bleary eyes.

The Captain does not say anything. She just waves him inside, closing the door softly after him, and padding on bare feet to the small cabinet at the foot of her bed. She motions for Credence to sit down as she pulls out a bottle and two small glasses. She wordlessly hands one over to Credence and proceeds to fill it up to the brim. She fills her own glass as well, and knocks it back before Credence can so much as say ‘Cheers’.

Credence hesitates for a few seconds before he follows her example. The drink burns going down his throat, dry and stronger than anything Percival ever offered him before. It tastes like engine fuel smells, and he finds his appreciation of the Captain’s toughness increase exponentially if this is what counts as a nightcap for her. When he puts it down, he finds the Captain has sat herself down on the bed and is staring at him with focused intensity.

“First of all,” she starts, voice coming up slightly graver than normal “I want you to know It wasn’t your fault” 

Credence opens his mouth to protest, but the Captain sharply shushes him, re-fills his glass and gestures for him to drink again. He does. The taste sadly does not improve the second time round. 

“Second,” the Captain continues, ignoring how Credence shudders at the bitter aftertaste of whatever illegal concoction she is serving him “even if it were, none of us would blame you. Graves believes the man had had some Companion training, he tried to play him as well”

“But he failed” Credence interrupts her. Grindelwald may have managed to kiss Percival, in some way, but it was obviously not long enough for the narcotic to take full effect and prevent him from sounding the alarm. Percival probably caught onto the pretense much faster “Percival didn’t fall for it, and neither did Jacob. I did. I didn’t realise something was wrong until it was already too late, and he- and he…”

“He spent a whole week buttering you up” the Captain snaps, once again re-filling his glass. This time she fills her own as well, clinks it against Credence’s and downs it one go “He choose you as his target, and pretty much ignored the rest of us. That’s why he failed to play Percival and Jacob. Well, that and the fact that Percival is a professional, you can’t play a player, I guess”

“...I liked it,” Credence admits in a quiet whisper, the alcohol starting to loosen his tongue “the attention. No one usually looks at me. It was… nice”

The Captain squints at him, and opens her mouth as if she were to say something, but seems to think better of it and just shakes her head, before taking another shot. Credence, still nursing his third glass, considers taking the bottle away from her.

“Everyone likes it, Credence” the Captain says, slamming her glass on the table with a bit more force than necessary “We all like to be made special, to have someone hanging onto our every word, to look at us like we are the most beautiful thing ever” she sighs, leaning back and reclining on her elbows over the bed “Some lucky bastards, like Jacob and Queenie, manage to find someone who looks at them like they hung the moon and stars, and who they look up to right back. Others are desperate enough to feel valued that they are willing to pay for it. Why do you think Percival gets so many clients? It sure ain’t for his sterling personality”

“I like Percival’s personality” Credence protests, feeling himself blush as he looks into his drink.

The Captain lets out an amused giggle, clearly not as unaffected by the alcohol as Credence has previously believed “Oh, trust me, I know” she says, prompting Credence to blush even further and finish off his drink.

“My point is,” the Captain says “falling for Grindelwald’s ruse, doesn’t make you stupid, or naive, or whatever else it is you’re thinking. It makes you human. It could have happened to any of us”

“You wouldn’t have fallen for it” Credence protests looking at her. She is too confident and self-assured to fall for empty flattery.

“Oh, I don’t know. Going on a year now, I ain’t had nothing ‘twixt my nethers weren’t run on batteries” she laments, staring forlornly at her empty glass “Loneliness makes fools of us all”

Credence nods in silent agreement, and politely restrains himself from pointing out how Newt would probably be more than happy to go ‘twixt her nethers, if she just asked. It is not his place to do so and, to be honest, he feels more than a bit awkward at being privy to so much detail on the Captain’s love life, or apparent lack of it.

“You’ll find someone,” the Captain assures him, taking away his glass and stashing it, along with the bottle, underneath the bed “as will I” she adds, looking endearingly determined.

Credence so does want to believe her.

“Come’ere” she says, scrambling up on the bed and patting the empty space next to her “You can keep me company in my lonely misery for tonight. And once we get to Hera we’ll go drinking, to a nice bar, find ourselves some nice men to give us a jolly good time, no narcotics or manipulative deceit involved”

He lets himself be pulled down on the bed, not complaining when the Captain slings an arm over his chest and rests her head on his shoulder, her nose cold where it touches his skin. She is warm against his side, and he finds her smell oddly pleasant, despite the alcoholic overtones. He pats her arm, where it rests over his chest.

“Thank you, Captain” he whispers, trying not to sound too choked up.

“Please, call me Tina” she mumbles against his skin, sounding amused “I think we are way past such formalities by now”

There is no way she can see his stilted nod in the dark, but Credence still feels her answering smile against his skin. He lets himself drift off, Tina’s warm presence at his side reassuring enough to ward off any memories of Grindelwald.

***

Twenty-three thousand credits.

That is how much money Credence has managed to save over all the years he has been with the crew. He feels a small twinge of regret at having spent so much of it on second-hand pieces for his experiments. It seems silly, in retrospect.

The thing is, Credence believes he has found the solution to his problems, and it is an expensive one. He counts the money again, trying his best to ignore how his hands shake slightly with nervousness. 

Twenty-three thousand credits.

It will be worth it, he tells himself. Grindelwald got to him because he was starved for affection, and completely inexperienced in the affairs of love. He already lost his first kiss to a lying bastard, he does not want his first time to be with some unknown guy he just met at a bar. That may work for Tina who, apart from having way more experience in the subject, is comfortable in her own body in a way Credence could never hope to be.

No, he wants his first time to be with someone he trusts, someone he knows. He hopes twenty-three thousand credits will be enough.

***

Percival simply stares at him.

His eyebrows are a thick, almost straight line, over his eyes, and his mouth is slightly open, as if he wanted to speak but could not find the words. His eyes, his usually kind, warm eyes, have taken on a distant, steely edge, as they stare into Credence’s own before, ever so slowly, descending to the bundle of cash in his hands.

Credence swallows around the sudden knot in his throat. He shuffles awkwardly in place, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as he lowers his gaze to get away from Percival’s blank, silent scrutiny. He stares at his own hands instead. The bills held there are creased, dirty from years of usage, and the paper feels a tad too soft and delicate against Credence’s sweaty fingers.

“You want what” Percival says. He does not shout, but the question still echoes loudly in the heavy silence of the shuttle.

Credence does his best not to flinch. His fingers still spasm nervously around the crumpled bills, the paper crinkling softly.

“I-... I want to h-hire you” he manages to say “For a night” he adds, when Percival starts  to raise when enquiring eyebrow “As a Companion”

“You want me to have sex with you” Percival says, causing Credence to choke up slightly.

It is, indeed, what he wants, but he had been hoping to go through this conversation with nothing but carefully chosen euphemisms. Hearing Percival state his intentions out loud, makes the whole affair seem a lot more shameful. He can feel himself blushing, the back of his neck and his cheeks both burning furiously.

“Y-yes?” he responds, hating how weak and uncertain he sounds. Going by the blank look on his face, Percival is equally unimpressed.

“You do know that sex is not a given when you hire a Companion” Percival again not so much asks, as states. He has his arms crossed rigidly in front of his chest, and has yet to make any move to collect the money Credence offered him.

Credence nods “I know” he looks at Percival from underneath his eyelashes, unable to bring himself to raise his head. His neck feels frozen into its hunched position “I- I was hoping, that- that-”

“You were hoping our friendship would get you the perks”

Said out loud like that it sounds so crass. Credence would like to deny it, but that would be a bold faced lie, and both Percival and himself know it. Had he wanted to just spend some time with Percival, he would not have come with his life’s savings crumpled in his hands as a pitiful offering.

He nods.

“I see” Percival says, and this time there is clear anger in his voice.

Credence hunches his shoulders, staring hard at his bare toes, as they curl against the soft, plush carpet. He can feel Percival’s eyes drilling a hole against the top of his head. He does not dare raise his gaze, too afraid of what he will see.

“I’m not a  _ whore _ , Credence” Percival says, and the way he clearly enunciates each and every syllable of his name feels like a cold-handed slap. 

“I-I know that” Credence starts to protest, finally raising his eyes to face Percival. He balks at the dark, angry look he gets in return. His words log themselves in his throat “I thou- I thought-”

“You thought what” Percival cuts him off, expression stormy “Thought you would get a nice, friendly discount, and a blowjob as a bonus?”

“No!” Credence hurriedly denies “It isn’t like that” Except for where it kind of is. He stares helplessly at Percival, tears burning at the corner of his eyes, as words crumble and die before they even have a chance to leave his lips.

“Percival. Please” he begs, he is not exactly sure what for “You will accept proposals from all those random people all across the Verse, but not from me?” the question is born out of a mix of anger and desperation, but the moment the words are out Credence can already tell it was the wrong thing to ask.

Percival’s expression goes thunderous. His eyebrows lower themselves until they practically merge with his eyes, his nostrils flare as he forcefully breaths in, and his jaw clenches painfully.

“I would appreciate it if you left now, Credence” Percival says, reaching past him to push the door open “And please take your money with you. I have no need, nor want for it”

“Percival…” the name comes tumbling out from between his trembling lips.

“Please, leave” Percival says, face carefully turned away, not even looking at him anymore.

Credence leaves.

He leaves the shuttle and runs down the rickety staircase, not even looking back when he hears the door slam shut behind him. Tears are running hot and bitter down his face. When he gets to his cot he just lets himself fall, face first, into it, burying his head in the pillow to silence the sobs wrecking through his body.

The bills fall to floor, completely forgotten.

***

“Credence!” Queenie’s voice shouts from down the corridor. 

Credence quickly wipes his tears as he hears the sound of her steps coming closer. It is probably a pointless effort, given his generally rumpled appearance, puffy eyes, and red, runny nose, but he does have his pride, small and pitiful though it may be.

“Do you know where Percival has just flown off to?” Queenie asks as she opens the room’s door and barges in. She pauses, eyes widening in surprise, when she spots Credence.

“Percival left?” he asks. His voice comes out hoarse, and slightly nasal sounding.

Queenie frowns down at him, worry creasing her features “Yes, honey, his shuttle just dettached a few moment ago. Are you okay?” she asks, coming to seat next next to him on the bed.

He is most definitely not.

Fresh tears spring to his eyes at learning he has made Percival so angry he decided to leave rather than face him again. He shakes his head.

“Oh, honey” Queenie exclaims, quickly drawing him into her arms. He goes easily, burying his nose against her neck, letting her pet his hair, and rub comforting circles into his back.

He cries until he is out tears, and his throat has gone hoarse. Queenie holds him the whole time. She does not ask what happened, and Credence does not tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have notice, fic length has been expanded to 3 chapters, since it took me longer than planned to cover all the scenes in this one. Sorry for all the angst in this, it didn't sound as angsty when I first plotted it all out, but I also didn't want to just sidestep the effect the kiss would have had on Credence, so... it ended up being more of a downer. Sorry. Next one you get happy endings and smut.
> 
> As always, comments and feedback are what keep me going, and I'm ever so grateful for every little line :)
> 
> Some references on this:  
> \- Chapter title: adapted from the Firefly episode "Our Mrs. Reynolds", which has basically the same plot as this chapter, but with Joanne Harris playing Grindelwald's role, and pretending to be Mal's wife, instead of a Professor, and Captain Mal being the one to get knocked out by the kiss. Sorry, Credence, I chose to make you suffer instead. The "wake up" scene is the one that borrows more heavily from the show, but the story starts to deviate immediately after that. So basically, Credence's bad choice are all his own.  
> \- It's a bit unclear in Firefly canon, whether sex is the rule with Companions, I chose to go 'not'. They definitely end up sexing clients up, like, 80% of the time, but they do so at their own discretion.  
> \- "Going on a year now, I ain’t had nothing ‘twixt my nethers weren’t run on batteries" actual quote from the show, but from Kaylee. Bless her.


	3. Heart of Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the final one! (2k over the planned word count, as usual) Thank you for everyone who commented and liked the previous two, hope you enjoy the conclusion. Despite the title, this one doesn't follow the plot of any canon _Firefly_ episode, so lots of surprises ahead!

Percival stays gone.

Against Credence’s previous expectation of such a thing ever happening, his absence does not, in fact, bring the Verse to a sudden, screeching End. It does, however, make Tina grumble for weeks on end on how, between Grindelwald and Percival, the  _ Serenity _ has been left without a single shuttle to use in case of emergency.  _ We’ll get fined for not following proper Health and Safety regulations _ she complains, ignoring the twenty odd crates of illegally smuggled medicines sitting in the cargo bay.

Percival’s absence is less of a destructive wave, whose effects ripple through the Galaxy, and more of a black hole of emptiness. For all that Credence’s day to day is not that different from what it was before, it is the small things, or the lack of them, that make his heart painfully twist itself inside his chest.

The crew tries, with varying levels of subtlety, to distract him.

Newt enrols his help in managing the animals, a task Credence finds he quite enjoys.. With the engine bay still giving him the heebie-jeebies, it is nice to have a new place where he can be alone with his thoughts with no one bothering him. He also dearly appreciates the occasions when he gets to curl up with Frank and Dougal, Newt’s two dogs. Letting them slobber all over his face turns to be oddly therapeutic.

Jacob and Queenie invite him to accompany them during planet visits. It is a clear pity invitation if Credence ever saw one, but spending time with them, flitting from shop to shop, and tasting ever so exotic foods, does help him take his mind off pessimistic thoughts. It also leaves his feet sore, and his wallet considerably lighter, but it is not like he has anything special to save up for. And the new sandals Queenie practically strong armed him to buy are a definite improvement over his old, threadbare ones.

Tina keeps her distance the first few weeks, limiting herself to doling out encouraging looks and friendly pats on the shoulder every time they cross paths. After a while, though, when it becomes apparent Credence is not going to start bawling over his lost love at the smallest chance, she starts inviting herself into his and Newt’s quarters for some late night drinking. Credence is not actually sure if this last thing has to do with assuaging his loneliness, or if it is just part of Tina’s newly started, awkward, yet strangely aggressive, courtship of Newt. He finds it a nice distraction all the same.

Weeks pass, then months. The pain in Credence chest goes from an open, oozing wound, to a dull, familiar ache. It does not go away, but then, Credence never expected it to. Not yet, anyway. It is still too soon.

***

He writes.

Letter, after letter, after letter, all addressed to the “Companion’s Guild, Att. Percival Graves”. He does not have much hope of even one of them reaching Percival, but it is good to put his feeling into words.

The first letters are quite emotional. He writes them alone in his cot, still crying at random intervals, when the memory of Percival’s angry scowl flashes through his mind, and steadily drinking his way through bottle of cooking wine he stole from the kitchen. Probably as a consequence of all that, the letters are an absolute mess. Paper dirty with a depressing mix of tears, wine, and snot, and no sense of coherence whatsoever in the text. There are also quite a lot of rather rude words.

Under normal circumstances, he would be absolutely mortified at Percival eve landing eyes on the paper, but considering Percival’s opinion of him is probably as low as can be, he finds himself oddly unconcerned about it. It is not like he will ever read them anyway. Credence may as well give some poor schmuck in the Companion’s Guild Mail Room a good laugh.

Once he has put his more passionate feelings into words, and finished the wine bottle, the letters start to get more reflective, more paused. He stops just vomiting his feelings all over the page, and takes the time to properly explain what drove him to act as thoughtlessly as he did.

After a surprisingly enlightening conversation with Tina, he finally admits to himself how much he hurt Percival’s feelings as well.  _ Graves is as delicate as a lily, and pricklier than a gorram cactus _ Tina had grumbled in between shots of her (probably illegal) moonshine stash. Credence had never thought of Percival as delicate before, but thinking about it in retrospect, it was obvious there was something slightly broken about him, too. Normal Companions do not travel with a ragtag smuggling crew, on rundown ships, or waste their time indulging the fancies of a poor nobody mechanic with barely a penny to his name. Percival had been looking for some friendly companionship to diminish his solitude, and Credence had stomped all over that with his ill-advised proposal.

This discovery prompts a brief relapse into emotional letter-writing, with stolen wine accompaniment, but after that, with most of his feelings and failures already laid bare, Credence’s letters finally stop duelling in the past, and start chronicling the present. The  _ Serenity’ _ s trips, the going-ons of the crew, and how much Credence misses Percival every second of it. It is progress, he believes.

***

“We’re pregnant” Queenie announces on what would have otherwise been a completely unremarkable day. She has a beaming smile on her face, and tightly clutches Jacob’s hand between hers. Next to her, Jacob looks about to burst from happiness.

The announcement is met with varying levels of enthusiasm. Tina promptly bursts out crying in joy and wastes no time in laying her hands against her sister’s still-flat belly. Newt, on the other hand, offers a polite _ Congratulations _ before he goes back to calmly eating his meal.  _ It’s a natural process, Tina _ he tartly replies when she questions him about his lack of enthusiasm.

It may be a natural process, but to Credence it feels like something completely magical and otherworldly. Babies were rare at home, due to harsh conditions and poverty, and Mary Lou only ever adopted children old enough so that they could fend by themselves. Modesty remains the youngest child he has ever actually interacted with, and she was already six by the time she was brought in. He has seen younger kids since then, on planets, during missions or re-stocking pit-stops, but it has always been from a distance and, as such, babies have remained for him an almost mythical figure.

He cannot believe Queenie is gonna pop out one of her very own in barely six months.

“Will you let me hold it?” he asks, before he can contain himself. He has always wanted to hold a baby. They look so soft and small. He bets they smell real good as well.

“Of course!” Jacob exclaims, clapping a hand on his shoulder “We’ll be definitely needing some help with babysitting and nappy changing”

Credence nods eagerly, staring unblinkingly at Queenie’s belly “You can count on me for both” he says.

Jacob huffs out an amused laugh “I’m holding you to that, boy. No backing out later, when you get you first whiff of dirty diapers”

Credence shakes his head. Who cares about dirty diapers when you can hold a baby?

“We’ll need to baby-proof the ship!” Tina exclaims all of sudden, pausing in her rubbing of Queenie’s belly “We can’t have little Kowalski Jr. falling down an air vent by mistake!”

“Actually…” Queenie starts, nervously biting her lower lip.

“We were thinking about settling” Jacob finishes for her, laying a reassuring hand on the small of her back. Queenie nods, throwing a hesitant, worried look at her sister from beneath her lashes.

“Settling” Tina repeats, her earlier joy evaporating in an instant. Here gaze flits anxiously between Jacob and Queenie, and a small crease forms between her brows “Why?” she asks, her voice coming out sounding uncharacteristically small.

“A spaceship is no place for a baby, Teenie” Queenie says, voice soft and filled with understanding “You just said it yourself, they would probably fall down an air vent the moment we were not looking. Or get themselves electrocuted by a random piece of machinery”

“I can put dampeners on everything” buts in Credence. He will personally safety-tape the whole ship if necessary.

Queenie smiles at him “Oh honey, it’s not just about that. Jacob and I… We need a small break from all this wandering around. For a while, at least” she adds, when she spots Tina opening her mouth to protest “We have some savings, and we have been looking at some small settlements in the Outer Rim”

“The Outer Rim is not safe” Tina protests, the crease in her brow getting deeper. She wrings her hands anxiously, obviously upset at the prospect of her sister and nephew being stranded on some poor, isolated Outer Rim planet.

“There’s a bit of everything, really” Jacob says “and it’s not like we could afore anything on the Core. The cities are expensive and can be quite dangerous, and the less populated planets cost a fortune”

They argue, back and forth, on the merits of different Real Estate opportunities all across the Verse, for quite a while, but Credence stops listening. Same as Tina, his initial joy at learning about the baby seems to have all but fizzed out, leaving nothing but a ball of dread sitting on the pit of his stomach.

***

“Credence?” Queenie’s voice echoes along the corridors.

Credence raises his head from where he has been writing yet another letter to Percival “Over here!” he responds, stashing the letter under his pillow “In my room”

“Oh, hello, honey” Queenie says, popping her head in through the door after a few moment “I thought you might be in the engine bay”

Credence shrugs. He is still not comfortable spending much time in the engine bay. He stays there the absolute minimum necessary to perform the routine safety checks, before he retires to his room, or goes to feed the animals in the cargo bay.

“Do you have a moment?” Queenie asks, smiling, as she tucks a blonde, stray curl behind her ear.

“Sure” Credence says. He has all the moments in the Verse, there is no one expecting him for tea or to watch old movies on the holo-vid now.

Queenie nods and proceeds to seat herself on the edge of his cot, near where he rests his head on the pillow, hands delicately placed on her lap, one over the other, as she smiles down at Credence.

He would like to be angry at her. She seems to have everything Credence has ever wished for. Good looks, social skills, a loving husband, and endless amounts of confidence. And now, a baby on the way.  Meanwhile, Credence looks like an awkward, overgrown crow, has the social skills to match, and all the confidence of a new-born calf. All taken into account, Credence would be well in his rights to resent Queenie for all eternity.

Instead, he just finds himself smiling back and sliding closer so he can rest his head in her lap. He does not think it possible to be mad at Queenie. Life may have assigned her a lucky lot, but, to be fair, Credence cannot think of anyone more deserving. He wishes he would be as gracious as her, were he ever to be that blessed.

“You look like you’re having some serious thoughts there,” Queenie says, swiping one finger over the crease between Credence’s slightly furrowed eyebrows “you should stop worrying, honey, it will only give you wrinkles and a headache” she adds, moving her hand to comb through Credence’s hair, her fingernails lightly scratching on his scalp.

Credence closes his eyes, and makes a small sound of contentment in the back of his throat, shifting on his side so Queenie can comb through from his nape to the crown of his head. He lets himself relax into the soothing caress, enjoying the tingling sensation across his scalp, as the comforting smell of Queenie’s flowery perfume envelops him.

“As you know, Jacob and I have been looking for a nice place to settle,” Queenie starts. Credence nods, his shoulders tensing up again. Queenie wordlessly smooths a hand down the back of his neck, kneading lightly around the tense knots at the base “Shhh, honey, let me finish. We have found a place. A very nice one. A small farm in a quiet, fisherman village in Beaumonde. The owner was very generous. Even Tina cannot find any objection”

“Sounds nice. I’m sure you’ll be very happy there” Credence mutters into the soft fabric of Queenie’s pants. Despite his best intention, his bitterness comes through, clear in his voice.

“I’m sure we will” Queenie agrees, not at all phased by Credence’s less than enthusiastic response. Then again, that is Queenie for you, negativity just seems to slide off her like water off a duck’s back, where it clings to Credence like bobbles and pilling to a jumper.

“Which is why we want you to come with us” Queenie finishes, as calm as if she were simply announcing what is for dinner.

Credence sits up, staring at her in complete shock. Queenie just smiles back, her cheeks dimpling at the corners, and giving off the most motherly glow this side of the Verse.

“You want me to come with you?” Credence asks, voice rushed and cracking slightly at the edges. It seems like a dream, to be offered a place among such a perfect family.

“We noticed you’ve been feeling a bit blue since Percival left,” Queenie says, smoothing a hand over the top of his head, re-arranging the hair she had just mussed up “and you don’t seem to be spending much time with your engines and thingamajigs either”

Credence nods, averting his eyes, and clearing his throat “It reminds me of Grindelwald” he admits.

Queenie nods in understanding “Of course”

“What about Tina and Newt?” Credence asks. Queenie’s offer is enticingly good, but he does not think he could leave them, God knows what they would do all by themselves in the ship.

(Newt would probably fill it with more animals, and Tina would probably complain about each and every one of them)

“Teenie and Newt are coming as well” Queenie says, surprising Credence. He had always thought the only way Tina was ever going to leave  _ Serenity _ would be on a coffin.

Queenie laughs, obviously gauging Credence’s thoughts from his shocked expression “It took some convincing, I admit that” she says “but she agreed to land the ship for a while. She so wants to be there for her niece or nephew when they grow up, and she can’t exactly do that if she floating all over the Verse in her antiquated tin can”

Credence has a brief moment of indignation on behalf of the  _ Serenity _ , who is not an antiquated tin can, but a very respectable old lady, thank you very much. However his indignation immediately quells down when he spots the twinkling spark in the corner of Queenie’s eyes. Just some teasing. Right.

“And Newt?” he asks instead.

“Oh, that took no convincing at all!” laughs Queenie, clearly very amused at the memory “Jacob just had to say ‘fields for the animals’ and Newt was already packing his suitcase”

***

The farm is beautiful.

It sits in the outskirts of the village, far enough to be able to pretend they are alone, and close enough that they can take a nice leisure stroll to the local bar, if they feel like socialising.

Queenie and Jacob are renting the groundskeeper cottage. It is considerably smaller than the main house, but it still offers plenty of room for the whole crew. The owner of the farm is off-planet, the old key-keeper tells them as she takes them around the property for the first time. Some fancy, rich man who apparently bought the whole thing as an investment some years ago. He has never actually lived there, she tells them, and they are the first tenants he has ever taken.

The lady is blatantly fishing for some nice juicy gossip to take back to the village with her, but Queenie and Jacob just smile pleasantly back and fend off all her questions with vague, undefined answers. Credence’s interest is momentarily piqued, but he is easily distracted once Jacob shows him to his own room. It is barely more than four walls, a small bed and an old, wooden closet, but to Credence, who has shared quarters his whole life, first with his sisters and then with Newt, it feels as grand as a luxury hotel suite. As he sets his bag on the floor, and tears of his sandals to feel the rug against his bare feet, all thoughts of the farm’s mysterious owner flee from his head.

Live in the farm proves to be quite different from live in space, but Credence more than welcomes the change. As much as he loves the  _ Serenity _ , he cannot deny he finds the cottage much more welcoming as a living space. With its thick stone walls, covered in white paint, and cobbled floors, cool despite the warm outside temperatures. He enjoys the simplicity of the functional furnishings in every room, wood made dark and smooth with age, and the smell of dried lavender that seems to cling to every wall.

The grounds are vast, entire fields of yellowing grass, lined with rows of pines and cypress trees, and winding, rocky, dirt paths, barely flat enough for Credence to go through on his bike. The air is filled with the woody, earthy smell of the trees, and at midday, when the wind shifts, you can almost taste the salt from the sea.

Credence spends his days wandering around, with no destination in mind. He walks through the fields, the tall grass grazing the scarred palms of his hands, and spends whole afternoons lying down in the shade of the pines.

Queenie and Tina soon make a routine of walking down to the beach every morning, and Credence finds himself joining them more often than not. There is no closer thing to pure happiness than laying down on the sand in just some old shorts, letting the sun warm over his skin, Queenie and Tina’s laughter clear over the roar of the sea. When Jacob starts preparing them a small, picnic basket with finger sandwiches and freshly squeezed orange juice to take with them, Credence truly believes he is close to achieving Nirvana. Sea salt air combing through his hair, skin sun-warm and damp with sweat, and food more delicious than he ever tasted before.

***

As months pass, and Queenie’s belly grows bigger, Credence does his best to help more around the house. Queenie does not need much help, as she already has Jacob and Tina trailing after her like two over-zealous mother hens, so Credence offers his services to Newt, who has been expanding his animal range, and has already filled more than half the stables in the property.

For the most part, Newt’s new acquisitions are sensible farm animals. A few chickens, to get fresh eggs, three cows, for milk, a couple of ducks, no one is quite sure what for, as they mostly just wander round nipping at the ankles of unsuspecting passer-by’s. He also got a sheep,  _ We’ll be able to use her wool for clothes _ he had proudly declared, despite the fact that none of them have even the most remote idea of how to spin wool into thread.

However, it is clear to anyone looking, that Newt is far from satisfied with his current menagerie, so no one is exactly surprised when two horses appear on the stables, or when a box full of kittens shows up at the kitchen table.  _ They were abandoned _ Newt says looking at the floor, trying for an innocent look and failing miserably. Credence feeds and brushes the horses, and prepares milk bottles for the kittens, who curl up around his feet as he tinkers in the kitchen.

By the time Queenie enters her last trimester, Newt has somehow managed to acquire a Rhino. He names it Brunilda. Tina nearly has an aneurysm when she sees it. Credence does not ask questions, and just feeds it like he does all other animals. He is quite sure he is better off not knowing where it came from.

***

Her name is Ava, she weighs seven pounds, exact, and is born on a rainy, winter afternoon.

The whole crew falls in love at first sight. Queenie and Jacob glow with happiness, and dedicate all their time and attention to their new-born daughter. Tina seems to lose all language and cognitive functions in her presence, and turns into a gurgling mess, eyes watery with tears, and smile spread so wide it looks about to split her face in two. Newt tells her stories about all kind of animals, voice kind and soft, and eyes full of wonder.

Credence just stares a lot. How can he not? Ava is just so tiny, her skin incredibly soft to the touch, and always smells clean and sweet ( _ She definitely doesn’t always smell ‘clean and sweet’, Credence  _ Jacob tells him  _ have you ever sniffed her when she’s just dirtied her diapers?) _ . He does not have Queenie and Jacob’s naturally ingrained paternal instincts, nor is he able to gurgle and make faces at her like Tina. He does not even know any stories to tell, like Newt, short of just reading her mechanics manuals. Looking is the most he can do, and he is quite happy with it.

“Do you want to hold her?” Jacob asks, when he spots Credence looking longingly at him as he rocks her to sleep after her lunch.

Credence startles, blushing at being caught, yet painfully eager for the chance “Could I?” he asks, nearly breathless.

“Of course” Jacob laughs “Just make sure you support her head. Come’ere” he says, waving him closer with his hand “Take a seat”

Credence sits himself down so fast the old leather couch lets out a loud puff of air, making Ava blink her eyes open in surprise. They are dark blue, a fact they only discovered after the first week, since she spent her first days with them screwed up shut. She regards Credence with a sort of calm, dignified curiosity as Jacob slowly deposits her in his arms. She weighs less than he expected, although the way she wiggles her arms and legs makes it slightly more difficult to hold on.

“Don’t think too much,” Jacob tells him, gently moving his arm so it pillows Ava’s head “you’re doing fine”

Credence cradles Ava closer to his chest, doing his absolute best to ignore the slight tremble in his arms. 

Ava stares fixedly at him, her head slightly cocked to one side, as if she has yet to make up her mind regarding her new holding arrangement. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, lips pursed, and Credence braces himself for a full on wailing cry, but she just lets out a long, jaw-popping yawn, and relaxes, completely boneless against him, eyes already drifting close. Being in Credence’s arms is, apparently, not noteworthy enough for her to postpone her nap.

“She’s falling asleep” Credence whispers excitedly to Jacob. Ava snuffles lightly against his chest, her tiny hands curling up underneath her chin

“Told you” Jacob says, smiling “She likes you, buddy”

Credence likes her right back.

***

The first wave of Spring brings with it an unholy amount of rain and some much needed resolution to Newt and Tina’s long and awkward courtship. 

Credence is grateful for the end of the longing stares, and awkward blushes, but he is not quite sure the suspicious groaning noises coming off from Newt’s room next door are a much better deal. Not wanting to learn more about Newt and Tina’s sex life, he leaves his bed, despite the early hour, and trudges downstairs, in search of some coffee to help him awaken.

The tiles are cold against his bare feet, and there are goosebumps on his bare arms, his thin, short sleeved shirt not much use against the morning chill. He had hesitated over whether or not to grab a sweater, but had decided against it after a particularly loud moan filtered through the walls.

He rubs his hands together as he approaches the kitchen, smiling when he sees a sliver of light flooding in from beneath the door. Jacob must already be up working, and if he is lucky Queenie will be up as well, and will have started a pot of coffee. The sound of muffled voices and laughter coming through the door seem to confirm his suspicions.

He pushes the door open, flinching slightly at the loud, creaking noise it makes as it scrapes against the floor. His eyes scan the room, still slightly bleary from sleep. He spots Jacob, pushing raw loaves of bread into the oven, and Queenie, sat at the table, a steaming mug of coffee between her hands, as she smiles up at Percival.

Credence’s half asleep brain is jostled awake in a second.

Percival is here. He is standing in the cottage’s small, cluttered kitchen, his hip lightly propped against the counter, as he holds little Ava in his arms. He is smiling down at her, looking as impossibly handsome as ever, as Ava happily gurgles back, clearly charmed.

“I’m sorry” Credence blurts out, feeling as if he has just intruded into something he should not have.

Three heads swivel at once to look at him. Ava lets out a high pitched giggle, blessedly unaware of the growing tension in the room.

“Credence, you’re up early” Queenie exclaims, smiling at him and doing her best to ignore the Percival-shaped elephant standing just two feet away from her.

“I couldn’t sleep” Credence responds, only looking at her for a brief second, before his gaze is pulled back to Percival. His heart thumps loudly in his chest, the sound echoing between his ears, as he feels increasingly self-aware of his state of undress. Had he known Percival was going to be in the kitchen, he would have definitely grabbed that sweater. Would probably have changed into cleaner underpants as well “I’m so sorry” he says, once again, eyes locked on Percival’s own.

Percival sighs, closing his eyes briefly as he lowers Ava back into Queenie’s waiting arms “Credence” he says, tone neutral and as inscrutable as his face.

Credence hops awkwardly from one feet to the other, wringing his hands nervously on the hem of his shirt. He does not know what to say. He wants to apologise again, but is worried the words will come across as empty and redundant now. 

“Shall we go outside to talk?” Percival asks, face still betraying nothing.

Credence nods sharply, his throat too tight to properly voice his agreement. As terrifying as being alone with Percival feels, the mere thought of having the conversation in front of an audience fills him with the most absolute sense of dread.

“Tina’s wellies are just by the door” Queenie softly tells him, as he makes to follow Percival outside.

He nods in acknowledgement and stops briefly to put the boots on. They are too tight, and make his toes cramp, but he takes the pain as his just punishment as he awkwardly waddles after Percival. 

Dawn has just broken across the horizon, the first rays of sun tinting the fields in a soft, mauve light. The grass is covered in morning dew, and Credence boots squelch loudly on the wet grass as he makes his way. Percival’s shuttle is parked in their front yard, the worn metal gleaming in soft morning sun. Credence’s heart aches at the sight of it.

When Percival punches in the access code and opens the door, Credence hesitates for a brief second before following him inside. It still looks the same. Thick rugs, and luxurious curtains, draped elegantly from the ceiling and over varied pieces of richly decorated furniture. Even the smell is comfortingly familiar, wood and spice, and a faint whiff of tea. 

He takes off his boots without thinking, easily slipping into old routines. As he lines them up by the door, he thinks he catches a small, amused smile on Percival’s half-turned face. The brief sight of it gives him hope. Maybe forgiveness is not as unachievable as he had originally expected.

“I really am sorry, Percival” he says, because even if forgiveness is not impossible, he is definitely not going to take it for granted. He is ready to beg and grovel, if necessary.

“I know” Percival says, taking off his jacket and folding it over the back of a chair. He is dressed in a simple dove grey suit, elegantly tailored, as all his clothes usually are, but in a more understated style than his usual fare. 

Credence feels terribly underdressed.

“I got your letters” Percival adds, and all thoughts of his inadequate state of dress fly out of Credence’s head.

“You got them?” he manages to ask, his voice an embarrassingly high and broken pitch.

“Of course” Percival says, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lip as he raises his eyebrows in a pantomime of an innocent expression. It is an expression Credence would usually find incredibly attractive, yet now is completely unable to appreciate in his attempts to avoid hyperventilating “The Guild has a very organised and efficient mail system” Percival adds.

“But- You never answered” Credence protests. He can feel a blush inexorably climbing up the back of his neck. Despite being addressed to  _ Companion’s Guild, Att. Percival Graves,  _ those letters had never meant to be seen by anyone, least of all Percival himself. Credence dearly wishes for the ground to come up and swallow him whole as he remembers some of the things he wrote. From hopeless, melodramatic, pinning and fervent apologies, to ardent love confessions and sexual fantasies outlined in lurid detail, there is not a single humiliating base his letters have not managed to cover.

“I thought no one was reading them” he confesses, voice nothing more than a strangled whisper. His face is so hot it may well fall off.

“I guessed as much” Percival replies, sounding distinctly amused. Credence would resent him for it, but guesses this humiliation is just his due penance for disrespecting Percival and abusing his trust. The man is surely entitled to some humor.

“At first I was too angry to reply” Percival continues, making Credence flinch “and after that it was so clear you thought no one was reading them, it seemed somehow impolite to disabuse you of the notion. It  looked like writing did you good”

Credence nods, his movements stilted. He does not dare raise his eyes to meet Percival’s. It will take some time to sink in the fact that all his secret feelings have been laid bare without him being none the wiser. 

“I- I really meant what I wrote” he manages to stutter out. And, then, when he remembers some of what he  _ did _ write, he hurriedly amends “About being sorry, I mean. I was stupid, and selfish, and I didn’t think-”

“It’s fine” Percival softly interrupts him “I forgive you” he adds, gently lowering one hand on Credence’s shoulder “I forgave you months ago. I knew you hadn’t acted on any ill intent”

Absolution washes over Credence like a cool, soothing balm. The tension around his neck and shoulders eases up, his insides untwist themselves, and he feels he can breath freely for the first time since he entered the kitchen and clasped eyes on Percival. 

“Thank you” he says, voice thick with emotion, and lets a trembling, hesitant smile form across his lips, as Percival guides him to his usual seat next to the tea table.

Sitting down on the old, worn pouffe, just as Percival reclines himself on his favourite chaise-lounge feels right. For a moment it is as if the last year had never happened. Grindelwald, Credence’s offer, and Percival’s leave. All gone. 

Credence relishes the feeling. He basks in the familiarity of the scene as Percival gets two delicate porcelain cups out and fills them with hot tea from a thermos. The smell of mint immediately fills the room, sweet and refreshing.

“How did you find us?” Credence asks as he accepts a cup from Percival. The porcelain is perfectly smooth to the touch, and hot enough to warm his cold hands.

Percival hesitates, his own cup hovering just inches away from his mouth, before his lips quirk in a little smile, as if amused at some private joke.

“I, uh, I own this place” he says, blowing lightly over his drink, thin lips pursed in a pretty bow as vapor whirls in soft wisps around him.

“You own this place?” Credence starts to questions him “But how-?” and then interrupts himself as the pieces slowly start to fall into place. The rich man who never set foot on the farm. Them being the first tenants ever on the property. Percival’s retirement dream, a nice house far from the Core to live in peace.

Percival smiles at him as realisation dawns, the corner of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Tina tracked me down after Queenie and Jacob got pregnant” he explains “I still don’t know how she managed to get a hold of my new holo-vid number, but she started shouting and ranting the moment I accepted her call. Something about  _ Serenity _ falling apart and it all being my fault. She then asked if I knew any landowners who may offer Queenie and Jacob a good deal, far, far away from the Outer Rim” he chuckles “I had bought this house as an investment, years ago. It was way too big for  me, and my retirement plans, but the cottage seemed a good fit for the Kowalskis. I gave them a call soon after, and they happily accepted”

“No one told me anything” Credence murmurs, feeling a little stupid for not having been able to figure it out on his own. The clues had all been there all along, he had just been too busy wallowing in self-pity, or gallivanting through the fields in ignorant bliss, to pay them any attention.

“I asked them not to” Percival says, prompting Credence to sharply raise his head and stare at him in affronted surprise “It actually was one of the few conditions I set for granting them the lease”

“Why?” Credence asks, not bothering to hide to hurt from his voice. Even with their disagreements he can think of no reason why he should not have been allowed to know Percival was their mysterious benefactor.

“I had some things I needed to sort out” Percival says, taking a careful sip of his cup. 

Credence’s drink remains untouched, no longer piping hot. The surface is barely lukewarm now, and he can feel cold slip again through his hands. He takes a sip anyway.

“Oh” he says, curiosity mixing with disappointment. He can feel Percival’s eyes bearing into him with unwavering intensity.

“I left the Guild” Percival announces, and Credence’s head snaps up instantly to be confronted by that deep, penetrating gaze. His heart thumps loudly against his chest, even as the meaning of the words have yet to register in his mind.

“After Grindelwald and your… offer,” Percival continues “and, specially, after reading your letters, I decided the live of a Companion no longer worked for me”

“You said you liked being a Companion” Credence dumbly says. Percival is still staring at him, eyes soft and filled with something Credence had never seen there before. He has some trouble focusing.

“I did like it,” Percival agrees, gently depositing his cup on the table, the porcelain clinking loudly as it touches the crystal surface “but it could not give me what I wanted” he adds, looking pointedly at Credence. 

His brow furrows, and his mouth opens, ready to voice a question, but the fixed intensity of Percival’s gaze brings him short. Realisation dawns, slowly, a small spark in his mind that travels in a languid, warm, trail down to his belly and to the tip of his toes.

Oh.  _ Oh. _

Happiness bubbles inside him like frizzly champagne. He hurriedly lowers his cup to the table, the lukewarm tea spilling over his fingers in his haste. He distractedly wipes them against the hem of his shirt, too caught up in the wonderful, warm feeling coiling within his chest, and the promises he can glimpse in Percival’s dark eyes. His blush returns in full force, making his cheeks burn and tingle.

“You never said anything” he says, his smile so wide it is starting to hurt his cheeks. It is still worth it just to see the way Percival smiles back, all white teeth and crinkled eyes. God, he is so handsome it hurts. Credence has to pinch his arm to convince himself this is not all part of a dream.

“I was being professional” Percival haughtily protests. 

Credence laughs, half delighted, half in disbelief, because this is better than he could have ever imagined and he is still not convinced he will be allowed to keep all this happiness for his own.

When Percival extends a hand towards him, he quickly pushes away the tea table, and lets himself be pulled alongside Percival into the chaise-lounge, their limbs entangled and bodies touching in so many points Credence is nearly driven to distraction.

“In the spirit of full disclosure, now that we are at it,” Percival starts. 

His face is impossibly close, and Credence can feel his warm breath across his own cheek, as well as count each of his dark, long lashes, where they dip tantalisingly over his brown eyes. He holds his breath in anticipation.

“Grindelwald never kissed me” 

Credence frowns. Drawing away slightly to stare quizzically at Percival “You didn’t trip either” he says “You were clearly affected by the narcotic” There is no other way to explain Percival’s uncoordinated stumbling and slurred speech. 

Percival smirks “Oh, I was, just not because of Grindelwald” he says, and when Credence keeps looking at him in confusion, he adds “I kissed  _ you _ ”

“Me?” Credence asks, puzzled. The only kiss he remembers is Grindelwald’s. 

“While you were unconscious” Percival explains “I confronted Grindelwald outside the shuttle, but he managed to escape. I then ran to the engine bay and found you laying down on the floor. For a moment I thought you were dead”

“And you kissed me?” the thought makes Credence smile. He can just about picture Percival leaning down in despair, clutching his unconscious body to his chest, and laying a long, passionate kiss against his lips. That is definitely better than any fantasy he could have conjured up.

“I was being romantic” Percival says, mock affronted “I thought you gone. Of course, the moment I stood up I felt the nausea of the narcotic, I barely managed to shout for Tina before I fell face first into the floor. Not very heroic, I’m afraid”   

“It sounds very heroic to me” Credence whispers, leaning in so that their lips are merely inches apart. He can feel the stutter in Percival’s breath at the movement, and his hand smoothing down his side, slowly, to settle on the small of his back. He wishes he could swap the memory of Grindelwald for Percival. He would much rather know what his lips taste like.

“Kiss me?” he asks, voice small and trembling, nothing more than a faint whisper.

For a moment, it looks as if Percival may not have heard him, and Credence feels a brief surge of panic, which is immediately quelled when he feels the soft, tentative press of warm, slightly chapped lips against his own. The touch is brief, feather-like, nothing more than a small brush against his half opened lips. His mouth trembles, eyelids fluttering closed and breath rushing out through his nose, as he grips the front of Percival’s shirt, and leans in, chasing his mouth.

“Kiss me” he repeats, this time more forcefully. He can feel Percival’s lips against his own as he mouths the words, their breaths mingling together in the negligible space between them.

His command is not ignored. Percival keeps his kisses light, soft caresses that leave Credence’s lips tingling and make heat pool down in his belly. He pants wetly over Percival’s mouth, his hands spasmodically clutching ever large handfuls of his shirt, his body shivering at the slow, purposeful way Percival caresses his back. He feels like he is about to fall apart from the delicate tenderness of it all.

“Kiss me” he says, once again, as he uses his body leverage to roll himself on top of Percival, fitting in neatly between his open legs. The new position brings his crotch in touch with Percival’s, and the sudden flash of pleasure makes him whimper. He slots his open mouth over Percival’s, lips sliding, wet and uncoordinated, and nose smashed uncomfortably against Percival’s own, as fire spreads through his body.

“Percival” he whines, feeling hot all over, and overwhelmed by sensation.

The hand smoothing down his back makes him shiver in pleasure, grounds him, as Percival expertly tips his head to properly align their mouths together, their noses no longer crushed together, and his lips moving with practiced skill. 

Credence melts against him, losing himself in the slow, pleasurable, drag of Percival’s lips, the skilled, careful swipes of his tongue, playfully teasing Credence’s swollen lips just after Percival’s teeth have bitten into them. 

The kiss seems to last forever, leaving Credence a feverish, trembling mess, gasping for air above Percival, as his hips stutter of their own accord, seeking the pleasurable friction between them. He is hard. He can feel his length straining uncomfortably against his underwear, and his embarrassment is merely prevented by the feeling of Percival’s own hardness, hot against the top of his thigh, even through the clothes.

Percival does not seem to care. He keeps kissing Credence, quick, biting pecks, and deep, languorous kisses that leave him trembling with pleasure. One of his hands has tangled in his hair, pulling slightly from time to time, to position his face as he see fit. The other keeps on reassuringly rubbing his back, sneaking under his shirt to caress barre skin and dipping lower and lower with each sweep, until it touches the waistband of his boxer shorts.

Credence’s hips snap, involuntarily, as a loud moan breaks free from within his chest. His cheeks feel like they are on fire, and he looks down abashedly at Percival. 

“Sorry” he pants.

“What for?” Percival responds, boldly sneaking his hand under the waistband, grabbing a handful of his ass, and squeezing.

Credence moans again, tensely holding himself on half-trembling elbows above Percival, doing his best to keep his hips still to avoid rutting into Percival like a wild animal. Percival just smirks up at him, expression positively wicked, before he very pointedly rolls his hips, a swift undulating motion that brings his groin fully in touch with Credence’s, his hard length rubbing against him, as he uses the hand on his ass to push them even closer.

His arms giving out from under him, Credence collapses heavily on top of Percival, moaning brokenly as his body settles into the rolling rhythm set by Percival, flashes of pleasure shooting up his spine every time their cocks grind together. 

“That’s it” Percival whispers, pressing a wet kiss to his temple, lips dragging lazily down to his cheek and the corner of his mouth “Just let go. I’ve got you” he says, as he slips a hand  down the front of Credence’s underwear.

He gasps when he feels a hand close around his length, needing nothing more than a couple of strokes before he spills, hot and messy, all over Percival’s fancy shirt, his mouth open on a silent cry, and his forehead pressed against Percival’s sweaty collarbone.

He slumps, boneless, barely registering Percival carefully tucking in his soft cock inside his shorts. He feels oversensitive all over, wrung out from his climax, and for a few moments he can do nothing but pant shallowly against Percival’s neck. From that position he can see the top buttons of his shirt have popped open, displaying a small triangle of tanned skin, spattered with wiry dark and grey hair, and damp with sweat. Credence presses his lips to it, mouth half open, and breath still coming in small gasps. He can feel Percival tremble underneath him. Emboldened by the response, he lets his tongue sneak out, tasting the hot, salty skin. This time, he is rewarded with a full body shudder.

“Credence…” Percival breathlessly moans, raising his hips in search of friction, his hand, still on Credence ass, squeezing almost painfully. The movement brings his erection in touch with Credence’s still tender cock.

Gathering his strength, Credence manages to raise himself on his elbows. Percival stares up at him. He is lying on the chaise-lounge, dark strands of hair falling out of their usually careful style, and falling over his eyes, gone almost black with lust. His mouth is red, lips bruised from kissing and still glistening with saliva. It opens as he takes in large mouthfuls of air, his chest raising in sync, the still attached buttons straining against the white material. He looks completely debauched, something straight out of a fantasy.

“Can I touch you?” Credence asks. It feels almost sacrilegious to lay his clumsy hands upon someone so beautiful.

“You can do whatever you want to me” Percival breathes out, closing his eyes and tilting his head backwards, displaying the tightly corded length of his neck, as he pointedly rolls his hips again. His adam's apple bobs up and down, and Credence feels the sudden urge to lick it. So he does.

His fingers tremble as he sneaks a hand down Percival’s trousers, fumbling with the buttons and the zipper, until he finally manages to free his erection. It feels almost surreal to hold Percival in his hand like this, he chances a brief glance downwards to reassure himself that, yes, that is really his hand around Percival’s dick (and such a nice dick it is, long and thick, curving slightly to the side. He can easily see how some would willingly pay to hold it).

Credence’s strokes are jerky and unpracticed, due to both the awkward angle and the novelty of touching someone else. Percival does not seem to mind too terribly, though, going by the way he grasps Credence by the back of his neck and drags him down for a kiss, filthy and open-mouthed, as he spreads his legs wider to better accommodate him. His hand has not left Credence’s backside either, kneading the soft flesh almost in time with Credence’s strokes. 

When Percival finally comes, back arching of the coach, eyes fluttering closed, and moaning loudly, Credence’s spent cock valiantly twitches in appreciation. His wrist is cramped, and his hand is sticky with Percival’s spent, but he does not push away. He kisses Percival’s brow, the tip of his nose, his lips, and breathes in the strong, musky smell of his skin, sweat, cologne and sex. As Percival’s hand draws small circles on his back, playing with the short hairs on the nape of his neck, Credence wishes he could bottle up this moment and keep it forever.

***

The house is silent when Credence silently tiptoes out of the room. His steps are muffled by the obscene amount of rugs Percival insisted in spreading all over the floor of their room. He would have covered the whole house, if left to his own devices, but Credence had thankfully managed to convince him to let the beautiful tiled floors bare, at least while warm weather lasted. Percival has already ordered several new rugs, ready to be rolled the moment temperatures take a dip.

Sunlight has already started filtering through the locked window shutters, lighting small lines along the floor and walls. Credence takes the time to open the shutters as he goes, half-closing his eyes against the light that pours in. By the time he reaches the end of the corridor the whole floor is bathed in the soft light of dawn. Birds can be heard chirping in the distance, as Luciano, Newt’s newly acquired rooster, crows loudly from the hen house. For the bird’s own good Credence hopes that Newt manages to find that sound-isolated hen house he mentioned, otherwise there is no telling how long Percival will last until he decides to add roasted chicken to the menu.

The kitchen at the house is about three times the size of the one back at the cottage, and much better equipped, so Credence cannot exactly blame Jacob and Queenie for inviting themselves over every other morning. They leave plenty of delicious food and freshly baked goods in exchange, so it is hard to complain. Credence dreads to thinks what his diet would look like without their welcome input (Omelettes and bland vegetable soup, probably, as that remains the most elaborate thing both him and Newt have been able to achieve in their pitiful cooking attempts. Tina cannot be trusted to produce anything more complicated than toast, and Percival has yet to actually set foot in the kitchen)

As expected, when Credence enters it is to find Jacob already hard at work, patiently painting over a tray of raw croissants with an egg glaze before they are put in the oven. Queenie is by the main table, feeding Ava her morning porridge. Or trying to. She does not seem to be having much success going by the large puddles of porridge strewn across the table and floor. Credence nods at them, still too sleepy for proper, spoken greetings, and heads straight for the coffeemaker, eager to get some much needed caffeine in his system to wake himself up. He grinds the beans, and presses the grounds tightly into the portafilter with the back of a spoon before setting them against the grouphead. The loud hiss of boiling water filtering through is like music to his ears. He downs the first espresso shot in one go, without sugar or milk, and shivers at the bitter taste.

“I prepared some breakfast, if you want” Queenie says, pointing with her head at a decadent looking spread of food in the counter behind her. Ava eyes it longingly, ignoring the hovering spoonful of porridge in front of her.

“Thanks, Queenie” Credence says, grabbing some plates and approaching the food. It is a true feast. Fluffy pancakes, french toast, perfectly poached and scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and freshly squeezed orange juice. Going by this, and the three trays of croissants Jacob is currently slaving over, it looks like Ava gave them a rough night. As he loads up the plates, Credence makes a mental note to give Ava some sweets next time he babysits her, as a reward for prompting her progenitors’ stress cooking marathon.

“Are those pancakes?” Tina’s voice asks from the door.

Credence turns to see her and Newt enter the kitchen, both still wearing the (adorable) set of matching pyjamas Queenie got them as a ‘Get Together’ gift. A pair of ducks calmly waddles in after them, quacking softly as they make their way in between their legs and set to explore the kitchen.

“Are those ducks?” Queenie asks, alarmed, the spoon of porridge she was holding frozen in mid air.

“Agnes was not feeling well last night,” Newt answers her “and you know how Leonard gets antsy if he has to sleep alone”

“Percival will get something more than antsy if he finds them wandering about” Jacob says. Living in a farm has not at all improved Percival’s opinion of animals. Except for cats. He lets them get away with murder on account of them being self-cleaning, independent and aesthetically pleasing creatures.

“I’ll get more than antsy if they dare to bite me again” Tina mutters as she methodically fills a plate with heaps of food.

“You don’t mind that” Newt says, discreetly pushing Agnes away with his foot when she starts looking at Tina’s feet with clear intent.

“Oh, I don’t know” Tina says, cheerfully drowning her tower of pancakes in mapple syrup “I find I have a sudden hankering for duck à l’orange”

“Tina!” Newt exclaims, looking at her in complete, and abject, pearl-clutching horror. 

Leonard takes advantage of his distraction to bite him in the ankle, making him jump about a feet high in the air. 

“Ouch! Damnit, Leonard!” Newt exclaims, hopping around on one leg as he rubs at the bite “This is not helping make you any friends, mind my words”

Leonard ignores him in favour of picking at the puddles of fallen porridge underneath the table.

“Just make sure they are out of the house by the time Percival is up” Credence says, loading the plates into a tray and making his way out of the kitchen. He needs to swerve awkwardly to the side to avoid stepping on Agnes as she suddenly runs out from underneath the table, batting her wings and quacking loudly.

“I wouldn’t worry too much” he hears Queenie say as he climbs up the stairs “Going by the amount of food on that tray Percival is not gonna be leaving the room for the next few hours. And when he does he will be in a rather good mood, if you know what I mean”

“Queenie!” Tina shouts, scandalised.

Credence smiles to himself, shaking his head at their antics as he approaches his room. With his hand full he needs to use his elbow to push the handle down and move the door with his shoulder. Thankfully, he manages the difficult maneuver with no spillages.

Percival is still asleep. The sheets have pooled at his waist, leaving his back bare down to the very top of the enticing curve of his buttocks. When he shuffles around, the sheets move with him, and Credence holds his breath as another inch of skin is revealed.

Setting the tray on the bedside table, he carefully crawls on all fours until he is standing inches away from Percival’s sleeping form. He does not touch him, even as his hands almost burn with the need to reach out and brush back the dark locks of hair falling over his face. He loves watching Percival sleep, revels in the unspoken intimacy of being allowed to witness him at his most defenseless. To dare disturb that, even with the lightest, more careful touch, would be akin to sacrilege. 

“I can feel you staring” Percival whispers, eyes still closed, the hint of a smile playing at the edge of his lips.

Credence smiles back, finally giving into temptation and reaching over to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear “I brought you breakfast” he says.

Percival hums “I knew there was a good reason I loved you” he says, voice rough from sleep as he rolls into his back, stretching and rubbing his eyes. His spine arches beautifully, the muscles in his chest and abdomen going taut at the stretch. 

Credence mouth waters at the sight.

“I thought it was for my striking good looks” he replies, eagerly climbing into Percival’s lap and smoothing his hands over his chest. His skin is still sleep-warm.

“That too” Percival agrees, catching Credence by the wrists and dragging him down for wet, lazy kiss, mouths open and lips hot. It escalates quickly, and in no time Credence’s pyjamas are thrown across the room, and the sheets pushed aside. Percival, practical soul that he is, sleeps in the nude.

The wet sounds of kisses fill the room, over a soft background of rustling sheets, and interspersed with the odd burst of laughter. Light streams into the room, bathing their bodies and painting them gold as they move in a perfect, sensual dance against each other. The breakfast tray lays abandoned on the bedside table, pancakes going cold, and the eggs rubbery. 

It stays there until noon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please, leave a comment if you liked it, I treasure each and every piece of feedback I get.
> 
> Some references on this one:  
> \- "Heart of Gold" is the title of a canon _Firefly_ episode, the plot is completely unrelated but it references the 'whore with a heart of gold' trope in Nandi and Inara. Given Percival's role in this chapter, I thought it a nice fit.  
>  \- I was very, very tempted to adapt the plotline of "Trash", where the crew tricks Saffron (Grindelwald) back, with Inara delivering the coup de grace. It would have made for far more plot heavy chapter, so I went with the feelings.  
> \- Credence's letters: I know, I know, in a fic where space travel is a thing, paper written correspondence should be beyond obsolete, but I liked the idea of Credence doing it the old-fashioned way. Partially because he is too dirt poor to afford a laptop, partially because it reminds him of Percival.  
> \- In case it wasn't clear what the living arrangements were there at the end: Credence and Percival leave in the 'big' house, as do Newt and Tina (although on a sepparate floor). The Kowalski's kept the cottage. They all basically live off farming and Percival's obscene bank account.  
> \- Luciano, Newt's rooster, is named after the famous Italian tenor Luciano Pavarotti
> 
> You can also come shout at me in [tumblr](https://dailandin.tumblr.com/)


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